No Mountain High Enough
by goblynn
Summary: SportaSteph. Away at her final year of university, Stephanie receives an unexpected visitor. Old boundaries are redrawn after the passage of time shows changes in the both of them. Please be aware that I'm having formatting issues; segments lack breaks.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is completely, utterly, unabashedly SportaSteph. I lay blame and thanks for its inspiration at two doorsteps--first, the incredible Shinjuchan on deviantArt, whose SportaSteph art so beguiled me (if you've never seen it, take a look). She is talented beyond words, and though she has no idea this is being written, I owe much of its inception to her lovely depictions of this pairing. Next, the inimitable KittyUK, whose SportaSteph fics are so incredibly well-written (down to the author's notes!) and cleverly crafted, that she roused a Muse long sleeping. Not only that, but she has been extraordinarily kind in previewing this story and making suggestions on its improvement. Without her support and encouraging words, I may not have shared this.

I hope you find it to your liking.

Oh, and I own nothing of LazyTown. (Would that I did!) No offense or infringement is intended.

~*~*~*~*~*~

No Mountain High Enough

Whether it was the bright blue of his uniform that first drew her gaze, or the unmistakable gait so unique to his person, she couldn't decide. Granted, being dressed as he was meant he couldn't be easily lost in a crowd, but at this smallish university in the mountains, "odd" was more commonly seen than not. His manner of walking, however, was a different story. As someone known for cartwheels, flips, and handsprings, his movements were always recognizable…but for Stephanie—long absent from Lazytown, her summers now spent working and learning in these distant hills—his easy pace was familiar, as well-known to her as any friend's. As she'd grown older, there'd been many occasions when they had found themselves walking together, comfortable in one another's presence, content to talk—or not—and quietly preparing for her departure.

Leaving Lazytown had been one of the most difficult choices in her young life, but something in Stephanie knew she must. She retained the lessons of her childhood, however, and suffered several failed attempts at relationships for that very reason—apparently, not everyone could understand the impact of having a slightly-above-average hero guiding you through your most impressionable years.

Her eyes followed him as he made his way down the crowded sidewalk, side-stepping a group of students, stepping over a dog's leash, pausing to allow an older couple to pass by. He shouldered his pack higher, never faltering in his progress…but where was he heading?

More importantly, why was he here?

Glancing in both directions and finding the road clear, she darted across the street.

~*~*~*~

The flash of pink caught his eye even before the movement registered in his brain. Spinning on one heel, he braced himself, and caught a whirlwind in his arms. He staggered, his body acknowledging a change in the weight and stature of the girl he held. Longer arms wrapped around his neck, longer legs dangled closer to the ground…the shock of pink hair reached well past her shoulders.

He laughed, blue eyes dancing as he lowered her to the ground. "Stephanie! Just the young lady I was hoping to find."

Stephanie beamed, her heart full to bursting, "Sportacus—I'm so happy to see you!" She hugged him again, tucking her head under his chin. Quite suddenly, she pulled away. "Wait--why are you here? Why aren't you in Lazytown? Has something happened? How long are you staying? When do you have to leave?"

He silenced her with a finger to his lips and a wink. "I am here to see _you_, Stephanie. Lazytown is fine—only Robbie has gone away, so I am not needed so much. Your uncle decided I should go away, as well—not for long—and promised to send me a letter if Robbie returns before I do." He shrugged then, continuing, "Until then, I will stay as long as you let me, Stephanie."

She ignored the last for a moment, her curiosity piqued. "Robbie's gone? Where?"

"No one knows. Robbie packed his suitcases and left little more than a month ago. Miss Busybody is certain he has taken a trip—perhaps he needed a vacation?" Sportacus grinned at this. "But I do not think Lazytown has seen the last of him. I am certain he will come back."

"And when he does, you'll be ready for him!" Stephanie smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears before reaching for him. Looping her arm through his, she turned them in the direction of the crosswalk, leading him across the street and toward the lane where she lived. Conversation drifted into everyday inquiries—had she spoken with Pixel about his latest invention?...what were his thoughts about Stingy and Trixie settling down together?...had Ziggy settled on where he was opening his shop? Stephanie was basking in Sportacus' presence, before she considered his comments of earlier. She slowed her pace, uncertain how to broach the subject. "Sportacus—"

"Yes, Stephanie?"

"You said Uncle Milford decided you should go away—why? Why would he _want_ you to leave?"

Sportacus didn't answer immediately, turning his attention to a nearby tree glowing flame-orange in the light of early evening. Its branches overhung the sidewalk, the occasional leaf slipping free and drifting to the pockmarked concrete at their feet. His natural compulsion was to tell her everything, but he felt it would be too much. 'Would it?' he wondered. Or was he simply assuming he knew more of Stephanie's own mind than he really did? Would she understand?

He took, for the first time in his recollection, the coward's way out. Turning a too-bright grin on her, he replied "Your uncle did not want me to leave, only to—what do you call it?—take a break? With Robbie away, I've been idle too often. He felt it would be best that I find something to occupy my time."

"So you came to find _me_?" Her brow furrowed, trying to puzzle out where she fit in the mix.

"Yes and no. I did not know where to go, what to do. Being the town hero is my purpose, I do not know how to 'take a break.' Your uncle recommended I find you, spend some time here—he says it is a lovely place, with many things to enjoy."

Stephanie brightened at this, again starting off briskly toward home. "Oh, yes! There are mountains to climb, hiking, rafting, kayaking…skiing, too—but that won't be for a couple of more months. What would you like to do first?"

"Perhaps kayaking? I hiked to town today—you did notice my airship is not here?"

Stephanie laughed—a bright sound in the gathering dusk. "No, I hadn't noticed. Actually, I noticed you in the crowd and didn't think to look for the airship, I was so surprised. But—if you didn't come by airship—how did you get here?"

Sportacus smiled at her confusion. "You are not quite understanding me. The airship is not here, but it is outside the town."

She nodded, the explanation satisfying. "You've anchored it somewhere else, then hiked into town."

"Yes."

There was a lull in the conversation while the last glow of daylight burned behind the mountain to their left, a golden halo around a black hulk of stone and trees. The bright orange of the tree they had passed only a moment ago was dulled, and Stephanie's eyes were drawn to Sportacus. In the growing shadows, the angles and planes of his face were more intensified, emphasizing the hardness of his masculine features. In contrast, his eyes found the pale light glowed against her, highlighting the soft curves of her jaw and throat.

His heart clenched in his chest, and he tore his eyes away.

Their pause lasted a moment longer, before Stephanie seemed to shake herself from a reverie she'd not meant to entertain—and led him onward to her home.

~*~*~*~

It was a smallish place—a cottage, really—but sizable enough for the pink-haired young woman. Living alone was a thrilling experience for her, but not one without unpleasantness. There was her second year at the university, when she'd run out of money, taken a part-time job, and found her hours cut back so much that she was unable to pay her bills. Rather than ask for help, she decided to try making it through the winter on her own merit—and had spent many days and nights huddled in blankets for warmth, glaring at the thermostat she couldn't afford to turn up above fifty-five degrees.

In the end, though, she'd come through, and felt proud of herself for being so determined. 'Someday,' she thought, 'when my own kids ask me about my time at college, I can tell them about the winter I spent eating noodles and practically freezing in my own place!'

Now, in the autumn of her final year, she was much more comfortable. She'd remained at the school over the past three summers, working full-time to put money away for the following semesters. Her plan had worked well for her, and she'd not wanted for anything—so long as she kept her head and didn't spend frivolously.

That comfort came at a price, however, and that price was losing precious time spent with her friends in Lazytown. She had missed everyone so much, and all the letters she'd sent and received meant worlds to her, but could never replace being there with them.

And sometimes, in the still of the night—when all she could hear were the frogs croaking and singing outside—she lay very still and thought of _him_.

~*~*~*~

Stephanie jiggled the key in the lock—she _really_ needed to get it replaced—and the door finally swung open. She slipped inside, flipping a switch as she dropped her bag in a nearby chair. Stepping aside and pressing herself against the wall to allow Sportacus entry, she closed and immediately bolted the door before turning back to him.

"Would you like something to drink? I can make a pot of tea, if you'd like."

"Just water, please."

He shrugged out of his pack, leaning it against the wall as he took in the room. It was small, sparsely furnished, and very homey. The warm-hued walls were covered in pictures of her parents, her uncle, Trixie, Stingy, Ziggy, and Pixel. There were shots of the group of them together, from their childhood years and high school; pictures sent to her by Trixie, showing off her travels with Stingy; Ziggy's graduation; and some of Pixel's experiments with 3-D image technology. (Those pictures looked a little worse for wear, which made sense when he noticed Stephanie brushed one with her shoulder as she passed him, going to the kitchen.)

He called out to her, "Where would you like me to set up?"

"Set up?" She called back to him from a room away, and he heard water pouring into a glass.

"My tent."

Stephanie emerged from the kitchen, smiling broadly. "Sportacus, there's no need for you to sleep in a tent. You can stay in here, with me." She held the glass of water out to him, eyes shining. "I don't have a spare bedroom, but the couch has a pull-out. You're welcome to use that, instead. It'll definitely be much warmer than a tent, tonight."

Sportacus paused, hand extended for the glass she still held, but not taking it. Hesitation rolled off him in waves. "Stephanie…I…I really shouldn't."

"Don't be silly."

Their eyes met, again. Earthy brown against frosty blue.

He melted; his fingers closed around the glass. "Of course, Stephanie."

~*~*~*~

In a matter of minutes she had busily set up the bed for him, waving off his assistance as she'd pulled the frame from its confines under the couch cushions. She'd disappeared, then, returning after a few minutes with sheets, blankets, and a pillow.

"I'm sorry—I didn't have a spare pillow, so I grabbed this one from my bed. Is that okay?"

He nodded, not daring to speak. Instead, he continued to observe her as she bustled about, adjusting corners on the fitted sheet, watching her unfurl the top sheet and allow it to drift lazily to the bed between them. Instinctively, he reached for a corner and began tucking it under the mattress, while she mirrored his movements on the other side. A glance upward revealed her small arms and hands working the fabric, adjusting the corner, then reaching out in a wide arc, smoothing the sheet before reaching for a blanket.

"Let me—" and he took the blanket from her, shaking it out and draping it over the lower half of the bed. She grabbed the pillow up from the floor and tossed it onto the top. Then her eyes were on him again.

He had a sudden feeling of being in a different life. As if making a bed with Stephanie was an everyday occurrence. He couldn't breathe; his heart was tight in his chest.

"Are you hungry?"

'_Yes_' said a part of him he ignored. "No," came from his lips, "I had something to eat earlier."

"Okay. If you don't mind, then, I'm going to grab a quick bite and take a shower. I know it's still early, but I'd love to get in bed soon, so we can get going as soon as we can. I know a place we can go that rents gear—they're usually open by six on weekends. If we get there at opening, we can have our pick."

Sportacus smiled at her. "Then we'd better get some sleep."

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she flashed a smile at him and walked away. He watched as she disappeared around a corner, then turned back to the bed at his feet. He felt grimy, and not a little sticky from his hike down the mountain. But to impose on her further by asking to use her shower? He couldn't.

Sighing, he slid the hat from his head, freeing his wavy hair, then sat on the edge of the low bed to pull off his boots. Standing again, his removed his vest, the crystal placed carefully on a table by the bed—near enough to alert him if it activated. He grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, and suddenly felt a change in the room. He turned, shirt still in hand, clad only in his trousers, and found a wide-eyed Stephanie peering at him from around the corner. Her hair was damp, and she clung to the wall.

"I—I'm sorry—I just realized you might've needed a shower, too. I mean, you hiked into town today, and all I did was go to class, and I didn't even offer you a chance to clean up. There...there's plenty of hot water left…if you want, I have some towels in the closet you're welcome to use."

He gave no response, watching her eyes dart downward, and back up again.

"I honestly didn't mean to be rude. I don't have a problem with you using my shower. You—you might not like it…it's kind of small, and I don't have any shampoo that _doesn't_ smell like flowers or fruit, but…well, it's…you can use it. Any time."

Her eyes were huge. Something in him uncurled.

"Thank you, Stephanie. I would like that, very much."

She hesitated. "The towels…um…they're in the closet at the end of the hall. I'll be out in just a minute—I just need to finish up." She disappeared again.

He reached for his pack, pulling out his toothbrush and a set of clean clothes. He rolled them and tucked them under his arm before heading around the corner. The hallway was short and narrow (much as everything in the house was small), and he determined which door was to the closet and which was to the bathroom by the steam escaping from her bath. He opened the closet and smiled to himself at Stephanie's linens. Most everything was some shade of pink, with a few white and cream-colored towels scattered amongst them.

He was gripped with an inexplicable curiosity to learn if her bedroom was still pink, as it had been when she lived in Lazytown, but he quashed it, pushing the thought from his mind.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened and a wall of steam rolled out. Stephanie flinched at the sight of him, drawing her robe more closely about her and excusing herself as she squeezed past. She didn't dare look back to see if he was watching her, taking refuge in her bedroom and dressing as quickly as possible for bed.

~*~*~*~

The shower was not torture for him—the warmth soothed and calmed, and he took some joy in smelling her shampoos, wondering which she had just used. Finishing quickly, he dried off and dressed, slipping out the door after brushing his teeth.

He quietly returned to the living room, put away his things, and slid into bed. Lying back, the scent of lavender reached him, and he turned his head, breathing in the smell of her pillow.

_That_ was torture, and he slept fitfully.

~*~*~*~*~*~


	2. Chapter 2

He remembered…

"Sportacus-

I need to speak with you. Come to the Town Hall.

Mayor Meanswell"

There had been nothing in the letter to warn him of what Mayor Meanswell had in store. It had arrived unexpectedly in the early morning, well before many Lazytown residents were up and about, and Sportacus promptly sent a reply, telling the mayor he'd arrive shortly.

He departed almost immediately, piloting the airship to a point above the park before launching himself out the access door. He dropped to the ground and backflipped across the playground before breaking into a run. When he arrived at the Hall, he pushed open the door slowly, peering inside the nearly-dark room before calling out. "Mayor Meanswell?"

"Back here, Sportacus." The mayor's voice drifted from a doorway in the back. Sportacus crossed the room, stepping into what he assumed was a storeroom. The mayor sat at a round table off to one side, stirring a cup of coffee as he shook the last drops of cream into it. Mayor Meanswell smiled—"Please, sit down."

Sportacus took the proffered chair, and sat lightly and erect in the seat across from the yawning man before him.

"Mayor, you asked to speak with me?"

"Yes, yes, Sportacus. I did—I did ask you to come, and I thank you for arriving so quickly!"

Sportacus grinned. "Always a pleasure, Mayor."

Something in the older man's eyes gave Sportacus pause. Sighing heavily, the mayor pushed his coffee away. "Sportacus, you know how highly regarded you are in our lovely town, and how much you are respected by its citizens. That aside, _I_ find you to be a likable person, and of good character. For that reason, I have decided to ask you for help in something of a…personal…nature." He coughed. "You know Stephanie is not close to her parents."

Sportacus nodded. "Since she asked to live in Lazytown permanently, as I understand it."

"Yes, yes. Her parents travel a great deal—on business, of course—and had no problem with the arrangement."

"And it was very good of you to take her in, Mayor."

Meanswell colored. "Yes, of course—she _is_ family, after all. And Stephanie is very happy here."

Sportacus only smiled.

"And…and…and I think you are happier when she is here, too."

The room fell silent, and Sportacus' smiled vanished. His whole body tensed, his eyes widening only a fraction.

Mayor Meanswell reclaimed his abandoned coffee, stirring again with vigor. "That—that's why I asked you to come here, so very early. Miss Busybody won't be out of bed, yet, and there'll be no one to question why you're here." He coughed again. "Stephanie is a lovely girl—quite wonderful."

"Yes, she is."

"And she adores you."

Silence.

"Sportacus—oh, I might as well just come out and say it. You've seemed…different…since Stephanie left. I'm not saying you've not been doing your best—you just seem…distant, somehow. I know what people think of me—everyone thinks I'm a doddering old fool—but there _are_ things I notice." He sipped his coffee noisily. "Oh, that's still quite hot. As I was saying—I do notice things. And I've noticed a difference in you, and I believe it's connected to my niece."

"Mayor—"

"Hear me out, Sportacus. I'm not questioning your actions, your history, or your relationship with Stephanie—don't look at me that way, I'm not implying _that_ kind of relationship—I'm talking about your friendship with her. You've always been there for her, since the first day she sent a letter to you, asking for help. In any crisis, you rescued her first, and never stopped her from helping you help everyone else. She is special, I don't deny that…" Meanswell stopped, staring into his rapidly cooling coffee and heaving a sigh. "I'm not making myself clear. I've never been very good at this, have I?" He looked up at Sportacus in despair. "I try to do what's right for the town, and I think I might be making a mistake. I want to help, and I don't know how." He took a deep breath, the next words coming out in a rush. "I want you to leave—no, wait—not permanently, just for a little while. Robbie's gone—who knows where, but he _is_ gone—I checked. Difficult place to get into, I might add." He shook his head. "But my point—you leaving—I think it's best. Maybe get away, find something to do. Until Robbie comes back and starts trouble, of course." Meanswell laughed nervously. "Perhaps…perhaps you could visit Stephanie? I'm sure she would love to see you again—and…and you could see how she's doing. She writes, of course she does, but seeing is different from writing, isn't it? Yes, yes—visit Stephanie. That's an excellent idea…she's told me there are plenty of things to do around her school, many outdoor activities I'm sure you would enjoy, Sportacus. And seeing Stephanie! Wouldn't that be nice?"

The mayor was in earnest. His eyes pleaded for understanding, for agreement.

Sportacus sighed. "Yes, I think it would be very nice. If you would like, I will be happy to go to her. How long should you like me to stay?"

"Oh, as long as you want, Sportacus. Naturally, I'll send for you if Robbie returns before you, but take your time with her—with visiting her. You'll have much to talk about, I'm sure." Meanswell was all smiles again. "Good, good. It's all settled, then." He sipped his coffee again, more slowly. "Ah. Much better. When do you plan on leaving?"

"I—I suppose I could leave tomorrow?"

"Wonderful! Now, I'll see to explaining your absence, perhaps think of something to distract Miss Busybody from asking too many questions…" The mayor stood, murmuring to himself as he walked away.

Sportacus rose, following him back to the main office of the Town Hall. "Was there anything more, Mayor Meanswell?"

The mayor looked up from his papers. "Oh? Oh, no. Have a lovely trip, Sportacus. Tell Stephanie how much we all miss her, if you please?"

"Of course, Mayor Meanswell. If that is all, I should go. I have preparations to make." Sportacus paused. "You are—certain you would like me to leave?"

"Yes, yes, Sportacus. Go, enjoy yourself. If you'll excuse me, I have some things to see to before Miss Busybody arrives."

Sensing the dismissal, Sportacus left the Hall with not another word.

~*~*~*~

Sportacus woke in the early light, and—recalling where he was—quickly sprang from the bed. Pulling the sheets free, he folded the bed back into storage, replaced the cushions, and placed the linens in a stack on the seat. He moved towards the kitchen, intending to find something to eat before Stephanie woke. As he rounded the corner, she emerged from her room, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"G'morning, Sportacus." She yawned. "Sorry—I slept terribly last night. How did you sleep?" She stretched, and he glanced past her, looking over her shoulder to the door to her room. It was slightly ajar, and he could see a bright pink wall through the crack.

He smiled broadly down at her. "Very well, Stephanie." Pointing towards the kitchen, he asked, "You are going to eat breakfast?"

"Of course—you taught me to always eat breakfast, so I have energy to get through my day." She grinned up at him. "I never miss it."

"If you'd like, I can make something for the both of us."

"Oh, would you mind? I really need to brush my hair and get dressed." She held out her hands, the sweeping gesture indicating her robe and bare feet.

"No problem. I'm happy to help."

Stephanie hesitated a moment before turning her back and going to her room. Continuing to the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator. Juice and milk…yogurt…he moved to the cabinets…whole-grain cereals…bananas, apples, and oranges from her hanging fruit basket…he spread his selections across the counter, grabbed a cutting board and knife from a drawer, and began cutting the fruit. There was no fancy footwork, no juggling or anything of the sort…he focused only on swiftly and neatly preparing the food.

By the time Stephanie reappeared, decked out in black form-fitting pants and top, with a loose pink sweatshirt layered over for good measure, their meal was laid out on the countertop. He'd poured milk into her black-and-white cow creamer (the one she never used, because what was the point of dirtying it when she was eating alone?) and left it by her bowl. There were slices of banana already topping her cereal, a glass of juice, and a plate of apples and yogurt to the side. He, however, was standing at the window, his back to her, eating only an apple and watching the birds pecking their way through her yard.

"Aren't you going to have anything else?" Her voice seemed unusually loud in the small space, and she noticed him tense, then relax, at the sound. Glancing over his shoulder at her, he pointed out the window.

"The early bird really does get the worm, doesn't it?"

Stephanie laughed quietly. "Yes, I suppose it does." She came to stand by his elbow and held up her bowl. "I think I'll stick to a no-worms diet, though."

"Ah, to each his own." His teeth snapped through another bit of apple, and he winked.

She remained beside him, holding the bowl against her chest as she ate. They didn't speak, preferring instead to watch the sky grow brighter and the world wake up around them. A few minutes later, after Stephanie had finished, she put her dishes in the sink and took her keys in hand.

"We'd better get moving. It's already past six, and I'd hate to miss a day on the river because we were late getting equipment."

"Sure." Sportacus finished the apple in two bites, then tossed it into Stephanie's compost pail across the room. Grabbing more fruit, he left the kitchen and followed her out of the house.

~*~*~*~

The air was crisp, and Sportacus could feel the coolness of it in his lungs when they stepped outside. Stephanie led him around the back of the house to a small building. When she tugged open the doors, he realized it was where she kept her car.

Looking over at him, she shrugged. "I hardly ever drive anywhere, so I figured I might as well keep it stored out here. Usually I walk or ride my bicycle, but we need something to carry our gear. My Jeep can carry the kayaks on top, and everything else will fit in the back." She sighed. "Now, I just have to get it out of this shed."

She squeezed into a gap between the wall and the side of the Jeep, squirming her way to the back of the vehicle. He watched in interest until she reached the rear and disappeared. He heard a "pop", and next saw her crawl over the backseat, scoot across the console, and slide into the driver's seat. Stephanie flashed a smile in his direction and pulled a lanyard free from the visor, hooked her keys onto the attached clip, then started the engine.

Sportacus crossed him arms shook his head at the sputtering, roaring sound, thinking how much preferable his airship was in comparison. After a few moments of idling, Stephanie eased the Jeep into gear and rolled out of the shed. She leaned across the seat and unlocked the door, motioning for him to get in. Once he was buckled, she steered them onto the road, and after a few uncomfortable lurches, she reacquainted herself with the clutch and gearshift well enough to get them through town and heading for the river.

Sportacus was the first to break the silence. "Are you comfortable driving this…?"

She looked at him out the corner of her eye, shrugging. "Well, yes. I mean—it's obviously been a while, but I'm ok with it." She shifted into fifth gear. "It's not what you expected, is it?"

He stifled a grin. "Ah, no."

"Uncle Milford insisted I have something with four-wheel drive—said I'd need it in the snow. I tried explaining I really wouldn't be driving anywhere, but he wouldn't hear of anything else. I guess he talked to my parents, because the next thing I knew, they'd bought this for me and dropped it off when they visited last year. It's not new, but it gets me where I need to go." She slowed to make a turn on a side road, the curves getting tighter as they dropped into a valley. "Bet you thought I'd be driving something pink, didn't you?" She smiled through a couple of turns.

"It would not have been surprising, no," he admitted, "but white suits you."

"Thanks, Sportacus." She grinned at him again.

The tightness in his chest returned.

~*~*~*~

Perhaps a mile later, she eased into the gravel parking lot of a rafting company. Sportacus noted she'd been correct—there were groups of people milling about, climbing into vans, and trying on life jackets. Everywhere he looked, it seemed someone was getting ready to go on the river. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned.

Stephanie pointed to a ramp on the right of the building. "Wait over there. I'm going to run inside and ask Tim to help us out. I'll be back in a second."

She darted away, and he moved through the crowd nearest him to wait where she'd indicated. A few people passed by him, and he noticed more than one double-take at his attire. A group of young women—students, he presumed—burst into giggles and excited whispers, and more than one married woman looked back after walking by with her husband.

He really hoped Stephanie would hurry.

As if by the sheer force of his will, she appeared from around the corner of the building, a young man close on her heels. He looked about her age; he was tall and lean, with spiky, dark hair dyed red at the tips and skin bronzed by hours spent outdoors. Stephanie led him to Sportacus' side, where she made introductions.

"Sportacus—this is Tim. Tim, this is Sportacus." She was rocking on the balls of her feet.

Tim gave a lop-sided smile. "Hey, man. Heard a lot about you from Steph."

Sportacus extended a hand. "Hello. It's nice to meet you. You are a friend of Stephanie's?"

Something changed in the air. Tim looked away. "Yeah, we've known each other a while."

Stephanie's smile faltered. "Tim and I met that first summer, Sportacus. He's the one who first took me kayaking. He's really good, and said we can borrow the equipment at no charge."

Tim shrugged. "Consider it a favor, Steph. You know I love you." He wrapped one long arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

"Oh, Tim—quit being silly." Stephanie laughed weakly and pushed him away. "I want to take Sportacus downriver—is that okay?"

"Sure. Just remember where to get out, or you'll have another couple miles before you can stop." Tim reached into a rack of lifejackets and pulled out two. He passed them to Stephanie. "Yours is the black and yellow one." When she gave the other one to Sportacus, Tim looked at them both and asked, "Want me to drop you out at the access? I can have Shane follow us and we can leave your Jeep at the end point. He can bring me back here, and you can bring the stuff back when you're done."

Stephanie nodded. "That'd be great. When can you leave?"

"Shane's getting another group loaded up, so…fifteen minutes?"

"Great!" She turned back to Sportacus. "I need a minute, will you be okay?"

"Of course, Stephanie."

Tim waved her off. "Yeah, of course, Steph. Come on, I'm not gonna bother him, okay?" He winked at her. "Use the staff bathroom in the back. It's cleaner."

Stephanie blushed, but walked into the rental shop, instead of going around to the public toilets. Two sets of eyes followed her progress, and when she was out of earshot, Tim turned back to Sportacus.

"So…you're the famous superhero."

Sportacus immediately shook his head, hands lifted in a defensive posture. "No, no—I'm best considered a 'slightly-above-average' hero."

Tim's head tilted slightly to the right, his eyes squinting as if trying to recall something. Then, "That's funny."

"There's nothing I can do that no one else is capable of…it simply requires practice, and healthy habits—"

"No. I mean the 'slightly-above-average' thing."

"I—I do not understand."

Tim hesitated, then looked at the shop's windows a few moments before speaking again. "You know Stephanie and I were together, right? I mean, not anymore, but we were together for a while. We, uh, met during her physical education class. She'd signed up for a summer kayaking course for credit, and the professor always brings the students here. I was her buddy—the one that stays with the student when they first hit the water. It helps a lot of them out to know someone with experience is right there with them. Anyway…she and I hit it off, went on a few dates—we were pretty serious for a while—and then I was stupid and she broke it off."

Sportacus was at a loss. "She ended it?"

Tim shrugged. "Yeah…she told me she'd be thrilled if I'd still be friends with her, since she really enjoyed being on the river, and wanted to come back—and God knows I could never tell her no, she's too nice for that—but it's what she said when she told me it was over that I just remembered. She said, 'I don't want a 'regular' guy—someone that's like everyone else…and I don't want the 'perfect' man, because I could never measure up. I want someone _slightly above average_.'"

Sportacus said nothing.

Tim stared very hard into his eyes.

Sportacus was the first to break, glancing over Tim's shoulder. Stephanie was coming through the shop.

Tim followed his gaze, then turned back to him, quickly hissing, "Dude. She means _you_. I can't freaking believe it. It's _you_."

As Stephanie approached them, Tim pasted on a lazy smile. "Finally! What took you so long?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "Staci."

Tim laughed. "Say no more." He looked across the parking lot. "Shane's got the last of the tour's gear loaded. We'd better get going, so we can be back before the first group starts returning their stuff."

Stephanie grabbed Sportacus' hand as Tim led them down the steps. "You want the front or back?"

"Give him the front, Steph. I'll stretch out in the back."

When they'd all climbed in, she drove them a few miles up the road, pulling off in a clearing. Tim jumped out after her, running to the van that had stopped with them and pulling two kayaks from the trailer behind it. He tossed paddles across the seats while Stephanie pulled the lifejackets from the Jeep's cargo space. Tim looked back up at Sportacus.

"You ever done this before?"

"Yes, but it was ocean kayaking."

"Really? Pretty awesome. Still, you should know—ocean kayaking and this, well, they're not the same. You're not going to be in any serious whitewater, but there are a couple of Class IV rapids on this stretch. The biggest problem is if you miss the access point where you get out. Stephanie's done this run several times, so she knows when to look for it, but if you do miss it, there's a Class V rapid not far below. Be careful."

"We will, Tim. Now go on. Shane's waiting for you. Just make sure to lock the Jeep, okay? And put the spare in the usual hiding place." Stephanie was already buckling her lifejacket and adjusting the fit.

"Sure thing, sweet thing." Tim laughed and jogged to the Jeep. He was pulling back onto the road when Stephanie spoke again.

"What were you and Tim talking about back at the shop?"

Sportacus snapped the jacket's buckle into place, weighing his options in that brief moment. "He was telling me about how you met. A kayaking class for your education."

"And…?"

Sportacus looked at her quizzically.

"I know Tim better than that. What, did he tell you about our relationship? Why we broke up?"

His hands fell to his sides. "He said only that you had been 'serious'—and that he had been 'stupid' and you ended the affair."

She snorted. "Interesting choice of word. 'Affair.' That's a nice way to put it."

Stephanie grabbed her kayak and dragged it down to the water. Sportacus lifted his above his head and came to her.

"He was…unfaithful?"

She was fidgeting with the lanyard around her neck, tucking her keys between her breasts and the lifejacket. After a minute, she replied. "Yes. I caught him with a girl he worked with…they'd dated before, and broke up not long before he started going out with me. In the beginning, I wondered if I was the rebound girl…but things were so good between us, and we were getting so serious…" She sniffed, her eyes welling up. "I gave him…so much—and he threw it away." Here, she wiped angrily at tears. "He told me it was an accident. An _accident_…that he's a regular guy, and guys make mistakes. 'Nobody's perfect,' he said. And I told him I _know_ nobody's perfect…but I don't want perfect. I just want…" She trailed off.

He chose his words carefully. "Better?"

Stephanie raised her eyes to his. Her face was red and splotchy, her eyes showing hints of puffiness from holding back what tears she could. She nodded. "Yes. I want better."

His heart hurt for her. Lowering his craft to the ground, he reached out. She came to him, burying her face in his neck, hands curling at his shoulders, tears falling freely. He held her until she quieted, then pressed a light kiss to the crown of her head.

"It is better to know now, Stephanie."

She pulled away, rubbing at her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "I know. It just hurt so much."

"Why did you not tell your uncle of this? or your parents?"

"Are you crazy? Uncle Milford would've brought me home! …and if I'd told my parents, they would tell him, and he'd know anyway—so I'd _still_ would've been brought home."

"He would not take you out of school, Stephanie."

"Oh, Sportacus—he never wanted me to go away to begin with. If he thought anything was ever less than wonderful for me here, he'd insist I transfer to college closer to home. He's been asking me to do that for years, as it is. He says he wants me home because Lazytown hasn't been the same since I left."

"It hasn't."

She looked at him strangely. "It's not _supposed_ to be the same! I'm grown up. _I've_ changed—Lazytown _has_ to change, too. I couldn't be eight years old forever."

"No one said you had to be, Stephanie."

"But—"

"Your uncle loves you, Stephanie. So do your friends. You are missed."

She turned her back on him and began pushing the kayak into the river, climbing into the seat. "Are you coming?"

~*~*~*~


	3. Chapter 3

~*~*~*~

Stephanie remained distant for the first mile. She would paddle ahead, or drift behind, and at the very least, barely speak to him except to warn about a rock or other obstacle. He was frustrated, and angry—at Tim, more than anyone, for hurting Stephanie—and found himself distracted by thoughts of her and the boy together. What she had said, "I gave him…so much"—the pause, as if she were searching for words, terrified him. Images of her…_with_ the boy…came unbidden, and his heart both tightened and pounded in his chest. He was desperate for something else to draw his attention.

He spoke. "Stephanie—who is Staci?"

Her head whipped around to look at him. "What?"

"Who is Staci?"

Stephanie shook her head, then said, "Oh, the bathroom! Sorry—I wasn't thinking. Staci is the girl who runs the cash register, Sportacus. Her parents own the place, but expect her to work as hard as anyone else. After she refused to lead runs, or be a buddy, or load equipment, or organize reservations…well, her parents put her at the counter. And she still complains. They're great people, and aren't _that_ demanding—they just want her to have a good work ethic. She says they're bullies and takes extra-long bathroom breaks just to keep from having to do her job."

He smiled. "She sounds…interesting."

Stephanie laughed. It was a bright, golden sound. "You could say that."

She chatted with him after that, keeping their kayaks a safe distance apart, but close enough to occasionally splash him with the chilly river water, or push him towards a rock with her paddle—"Oh, Sportacus, rolling over and getting wet isn't going to kill you"—and initiating races through the calmer stretches.

He genuinely admired her form—she had learned well, and showed confidence in her skills on the water. Sportacus was pleased she'd found another activity to enjoy, but especially happy she'd not restricted herself to only her studies. Growing children required more than books to thrive, he felt, and thrived Stephanie had indeed done.

Stephanie was concentrating on the water ahead, gauging the best way to avoid rocks in this shallower portion of the river. Making her choice, she drove the paddle into the water with extra force, pushing ahead of him and skirting around to his other side. She laughed as she slipped over a drop, water rushing over the kayak's edge and around her. A sharp squeal came from her at the sudden cold, and she laughed again.

Sportacus came alongside. "Are you okay?"

She turned a hundred-watt smile on him. "Yes—just caught me by surprise. It's colder than I expected."

"Now you understand why I didn't want to be pushed over."

"Fine, I admit it—I was wrong." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't get used to it!"

And off she went, racing ahead again.

He lunged forward with the paddle. The chase was on.

~*~*~*~

"I haven't had so much fun on the water in ages!" Stephanie was rosy from exertion, smiling as they strapped the kayaks to the roof of the Jeep. While Sportacus checked the tie-downs, she loaded the paddles and lifejackets into the back. When everything was secure, they climbed in and she drove them back to the shop. About a mile out, Sportacus said something unexpected—

"Stephanie, forgive me—please—but I do not understand something. If your…friend…hurt you as he did, why do you remain his friend?"

Her grip on the wheel tightened, and he saw her take a deep breath, releasing it slowly before replying. "I'm trying to be better than that." She never so much as glanced in his direction as she spoke. "It's like with you and Robbie—no matter what he does, you're always nice to him. You never hurt him, call him bad names, or say mean things about him. You help him, and try to show him what he's doing is wrong."

He was still digesting this thought when they arrived. Parking beside the shop, they got out and began unloading the gear. Stephanie looked across the hood and saw Tim coming down the stairs, looking in their direction.

"Tim's coming to help, Sportacus."

He looked around. Tim was, indeed, approaching them. Sportacus turned back to Stephanie. "Why don't you get our things out of the back, and Tim and I can take of this." He motioned to the kayaks and the partially loosened straps.

"Are you sure?"

Tim was beside them.

Sportacus looked at him, still speaking to Stephanie. "Yes, I'm sure."

Tim was smiling. "Can I give you some help?"

Sportacus nodded, and Tim began untying the remaining knots, while Stephanie finished pulling everything out of the back. As she walked away, Sportacus called out.

"Stephanie, would you bring water for me, please?"

"No problem."

When she was out of earshot, Sportacus' smile faded, and he jerked the strap across the Jeep's roof and out of Tim's hands. Startled, Tim came around to the other side, rubbing the burn across his palm.

"Dude, what the hell was that for?"

Sportacus began looping the rope around his arm. His mind raced—he'd never been this way with anyone, and part of him was deeply satisfied even as he felt horror at his actions. Looking away, he saw Stephanie through the window—bright, beautiful, trusting Stephanie. He let the satisfied part take over.

"I am normally not this man. I strive to be compassionate, understanding, and forgiving—and have always hoped to be an example to those around me." He tied a knot to keep the coil of rope from coming undone. "I have learned, however, that my example may ask too much of those I care about…Stephanie—she told me her history with you."

"That's none of your damn business."

"It is when Stephanie is hurt."

"Steph is _fine_."

"No—she is _not_. If that were so, she would not be in tears when telling me."

"Whatever, man. I know Steph, and after she blew up over what happened and broke up with me, she calmed down and everything was okay. She wouldn't go out with me again, but she's fine being friends with me." Tim shrugged. "I figure, if I give her enough time, she'll come around and we'll get back together."

Sportacus twisted the rope in his hands, then spoke. "I'm not going to let that happen."

Tim's eyes narrowed, his mouth curling into a snarl. "Like hell, dude. You can't stop me."

"No, I cannot. But I will make sure Stephanie understands that I was wrong. Rest assured, she will have no place for you, then."

Tim snorted. "And you think she's gonna have a _place_ for you, old man? Let me tell you something—I've been _places_ with her you're never gonna get to."

Stephanie was coming out the door. Sportacus moved, standing chest to chest with Tim. The younger man was taller than he, but Sportacus was not dissuaded. "Keep away from her. You have no right to her, no place with her, no love for her. You toyed with her once, and I have no doubt you would do it again. If you hurt her, I will repay you in kind. Do not make me that man."

Stephanie stopped a few feet away, confusion clearly written on her face. "What's going on?"

Neither spoke, eyes locked on one another. Finally, Tim broke. "Nothing, Steph."

Sportacus backed away, then held out the rope. "Thank you, Tim, for your help—but I think we can handle the rest ourselves."

Tim looked at him, taken aback at the change in demeanor. Saying nothing, he took the rope from Sportacus and walked away.

Stephanie watched him disappear around the corner. "Sportacus—what did you say to him?" She gasped. "No—you didn't talk to him about…about what happened, did you?"

He said nothing.

"You did! Oh, Sportacus, _why_?"

He could only look at her, absolutely helpless. Had he been mistaken?

"I'm sorry."

"That doesn't tell me why."

Sportacus looked away from her, seeing Tim on the front porch of the shop, other young men standing around him. The group was watching them with interest. "Stephanie, please—I will tell you everything—but let's get these off and leave, first."

She followed his eyes. "Oh…okay."

The kayaks were quickly unloaded and they departed in record time. Away from the watching eyes of Stephanie's former _paramour_, he began to relax. Perhaps a mile or two down the road, she interrupted the silence.

"Okay, so what happened?"

He sighed. "Let me apologize, first."

"Sportacus, don't apologize until I know if you need to, okay?"

"No, Stephanie. You misunderstand—I am sorry I did not show you a better way. You say you are friends with him because of my example, my expectations of you to be a kind and caring person. Stephanie—I never meant you to think you must _always_ be this way, despite all reasons to be otherwise. I am not saying you should have behaved improperly—you _are_ better than that—but you need not remain his friend." He smiled wanly. "There is something to be said for aloof politeness."

She stared down the road.

"Stephanie…I will always be polite to Robbie—to anyone—but that does not make me a friend."

Her next words blindsided him. "Are you my friend? I mean, if you're nice to everyone—even if you don't like them, how am I supposed to know if I mean anything to you?"

His heart clenched in his chest. "Oh, Stephanie…"

Something in his voice make _her_ heart jump. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. His head was back, his eyes closed. She could see him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing with the action. She glanced back to the road, her fingers tingling.

When he spoke again, she could hear the change in the timbre of his voice. "Stephanie…please, never think you mean nothing to me. You are _many_ things to me."

"Sportacus—"

"I told him to stay away from you."

She reeled at the sudden change. "What?"

"He said he was hoping you would come back to him. I told him I would not let that happen."

"Sportacus!"

"Stephanie—he does not love you."

"I know, but—you didn't have to…to play guard dog!"

"He would hurt you again."

"And that's why I would've _never_ taken him back."

"I do not want him near you. I never meant you to feel you must be friends with anyone who hurt you." He paused, unsure whether to voice his next thought. "…and I _do_ wonder if you remained friends out of kindness, or if…"

"If what?" Her words were clipped. He could tell she was upset.

"If, perhaps, there was a…_history_…between you that…" He searched for words. "…that you wanted to keep alive…to keep the memory pleasant, instead of regretting it."

He chanced a look at her. Oh, she was definitely upset.

"Sportacus, if you…if you just want to know if I'm friends with him because he was my first…well, I'm not."

Sportacus felt the words like a punch in the gut. He'd thought, suspected—practically _knew_—but hearing it was physically painful.

He couldn't speak, and she had nothing more to say.

~*~*~*~

Stephanie parked the Jeep on the road in front of her cottage, got out, and walked to the house without waiting for him. Sportacus, trying to give her room to breathe, remained behind a moment before locking the doors and following her inside. She had already disappeared into the bathroom, and he could hear her turning on the water. A moment later, a radio came on. She turned the volume up, drowning out all other sounds.

Sportacus' heart sank. There was no need to stay. He'd arrived unannounced, intruded on her life, alienated her from what she considered a friend, and angered her—and he'd only been with her a day. His pack was still against the wall where he'd left it the evening before, nothing unpacked. Taking it up, he decided it would be best to leave before she came out of her bath. He looked around the room again, his eyes settling on a picture by the window. It was of himself, one arm around Stephanie's waist, both of them smiling at the camera. Sportacus remembered the day well—she had graduated the week prior, and was just beginning to enjoy her last summer of freedom. Her uncle had begged her to _not_ get a part-time job, as she had planned, and offered instead to let her help Sportacus run a summer sports camp for the smaller children in Lazytown. She'd readily agreed, jumping at the opportunity to be outdoors, and to have a perfect excuse to run, play, and dance to her heart's content. He recalled, too, that she'd been an excellent teacher—the youngest children gravitated to her welcome, open smile; the older ones admired her for her skill and stamina. She freely admitted that she couldn't hold a candle to _him_, but she was beginning to hold her own.

The picture was taken on opening day of the camp, and Stephanie glowed with excitement. The weeks following were tiring and thrilling—they'd known one another ten years at that point, but hadn't spent so much time together as they had that summer. There was little time to talk during the day, as they were leading groups through different activities, guiding their "captains" in leading the groups assigned to them, and trying to keep order. However, after the children had gone home, they would find somewhere quiet to discuss the day, review each child's progress, and decide on the next day's activities. Not long after, they found themselves lingering until after nightfall—they laughed over old memories and new happenings…he listened to her whispered fears, mixed with anticipation, of going away…and they grew ever closer and more comfortable with one another.

By summer's end, he'd been loathe to see her go. He was at her good-bye party the night before she left—the first to arrive, the last to leave. He'd given her an appropriate gift, but made no claim on her time. He had also appeared at the station when she boarded the train, though he'd remained out of sight until her uncle, friends, and Miss Busybody had left. Unfortunately, they had dallied so long, he had little time to say good-bye. He made no great scene—and no grand gesture—he just appeared by her side as she waited to board. She'd been startled and pleased to see him.

"Sportacus! I wasn't expecting you to be here." He remembered how her hand had rested on his arm, her face aglow.

"I wanted only to say good-bye to you, Stephanie."

She grinned. "Didn't you do that yesterday?"

"Not as I had wanted to, no."

Her had smile faltered only a little—he could tell she was trying to work out his meaning.

The conductor was calling for the cars ahead…he had little time left with her. "Stephanie, I want you to know your friendship means a great deal to me, and…I wish I could be with you, to keep you safe, but we both know I cannot. Lazytown needs me—and you need the opportunity to care for yourself." He pulled something from his pack. "But I am asking you to be careful—there are wickeder men than Robbie Rotten in the world. You are a bright, clever young woman, and I want you to come home safe." The conductor was only one car away. "Take this." He held out a mail tube.

She took it, questions in her eyes.

Sportacus turned it in her hands. "Here…this button. If you ever need me—for anything—press the button and throw the tube into the air as high as you can. It will find its way to me, and I will come to you."

"Sportacus—"

"Tickets ready, please! Now boarding Car F." The conductor was upon them, and the crowd began moving.

"Stephanie, you must go. Take it, keep it safe. Remember, I _will_ come to you, should you need me." He took her face in his hands, and looked deeply into her eyes. There—the first moment his heart clenched with such force as to make him stagger. Her eyes widened, and he could look no more. He closed his eyes and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. Releasing her, he dashed from the platform. He'd not looked back, had not stopped running until he was safely back in his airship. Only then did he consider his actions, and forced himself to put such thoughts away.

Sportacus sighed, the memory offering no comfort—only more regrets. He shouldered on his pack, looked once more at the picture of a happier Stephanie, and walked out, locking the door behind him.

~*~*~*~

Stephanie wiggled her toe in the bathtub faucet, brain turning over thoughts of everything Sportacus had said—and what she had seen. He'd never looked so menacing, so restrained, as she'd seen him when chest-to-chest with Tim. Whatever her ex-boyfriend had said, it must have been terrible—it had to have been, to get that reaction from the always-understanding Sportacus.

But what had Sportacus said when they left? That she didn't have to be friends with Tim…she didn't _always_ have to be nice—polite perhaps, but not friendly. 'Maybe he's right,' she thought. Putting on the brave face had certainly gotten easier with time, but bursting into tears and sobbing all over her friend this morning seemed sure-fire proof that she wasn't completely over the hurt.

She mulled it over a while longer, and when the water had lost most of its warmth, she'd made her decision. Sportacus _was_ right, and as much as she hated admitting she was wrong—especially after her rude behavior…oh, _why_ did she tell him that in the car? She hung her head—she knew why. 'I wanted to hurt him.' Of all the people in the world, she hurt her best friend—the only person who had _never_ done her any harm, or hurt her feelings. The only thing to do would be to apologize. She had no doubt he'd forgive her—he was above holding a grudge—but time was of the essence. Letting him continue to believe she was angry with him was unthinkable.

She stood, water cascading off her body as she stepped from the water. Looking at herself in the mirror, she watched as rivulets of water slipped over curves and fell to the floor, her hair clinging to her skin in ropes. Suddenly, she felt a flare of anger—anger that she'd _ever_ let Tim touch her, that she'd not waited, that she'd not held out for…for what?

'For being absolutely _sure_ I was with the right person…instead of thinking we'd been together long enough for it to be time.'

She felt like an even bigger idiot for throwing it in Sportacus' face. He was right about all of it—about not _having_ to be friends with people when they've wronged you, even though you should probably still be polite…and he was right about her being friends with Tim because of what had happened between them. She really didn't want to regret her choice, but Tim really was…well, he didn't deserve her. Not _her_, and not her friendship. Certainly not her heart.

She finished drying off and wrapped her hair in the towel. Sliding on her robe, she stepped out of the bathroom and into her bedroom across the hallway. As she slipped on some fresh clothes, she listened for Sportacus in the living room. He was oddly silent. She opened her door a crack, calling out.

"Sportacus?"

He didn't answer.

She called again, and still no response. Her heart skipped a beat, grew anxious. Throwing her towel across the bed railing, she grabbed her shoes and ran to the living room. It was empty. His pack was gone, too. Her eyes scanned every surface, looking for a note—nothing. He'd left without saying good-bye.

'When?' her mind screamed. 'As soon as he came in? When I wasn't out after thirty minutes? Just now?' She flung open the door, darting across stepping stones to the sidewalk. She looked up and down the road—no sign of him. Adrenaline rushed through her veins. He'd come from the upper end of town when she spotted him the day before, so if he was going back to the airship, he'd likely take the same route. Stephanie ran back inside, grabbing her keys and slamming the locked door behind her on her way back out.

She was on the main street through town before deciding she oughtn't have begun searching on foot—she would've been able to cover more ground more quickly from the Jeep, but she hoped he was only a few minutes ahead of her. Her mind sang out to her as her feet pounded against concrete—'Where's the airship? Where's the airship?'—and her pace quickened. She had no idea where to go, but stopping—giving up—was impossible.

She searched until darkness began to fall. Well outside the town limits, she despaired of finding him. There was no way she could go on—she was completely unprepared for being out in the chilly night. If she were even remotely on the right track, she'd have noticed some sign of him, or heard the airship humming. She'd seen and heard nothing. He was gone. Sinking to the ground, she sat heavily and rested her forehead on her crossed arms. Tears came easily, and she cried until she gagged, rolling into the grass and heaving until her throat was raw and her eyes burned. Her heart pounded in her ears.

Hands were suddenly pulling at her, trying to force her up. She panicked, her mind struggling to get past the haze. She was off the ground now, being hauled up onto her own two feet and crushed against something at her back. She fought, trying to jerk away from whomever held her. She kicked, hard, and broke free, clearing a few feet before a hand closed around her arm and spun her.

It took her terrified brain an agonizingly long second to recognize Sportacus in front of her, disheveled and out of breath. His eyes were searching hers, roving over her body in the near-total blackness, seeking any sign of harm.

"Stephanie! Are you okay?"

Her heart swelled, and she stumbled into his arms. "Oh, God…Sportacus…I'm so sorry…I was angry—angry because you were right—right about all of it—everything—and I hurt you—I was wrong—and then I came out…and you were gone—and I couldn't find you…I've been running and running and didn't know where to look…I thought you'd left…"

Sportacus held her tightly. "Stephanie—I _did_ leave."

"But—you're here." She pulled away and tried to look into his eyes, but the night swallowed them up.

"I came back. Did I not tell you I would come to you if you needed me?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you use the mail tube I gave you? Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be out here like this?"

"I—I didn't think. I just ran."

She felt, rather than heard, his response. The vibration carried through his arms, ending on a sharp choke. She heard him breathe deeply, and wished desperately that the moon would come out from behind the clouds and let her see his face. It did not heed her, however, and he remained a mystery.

"Sportacus?" She almost whispered.

"Yes, Stephanie." His voice was strained.

"Please…don't leave. Come back with me."

She heard another breath in the darkness, this one longer, more ragged. He grew quiet, and finally spoke.

"Of course, Stephanie."

And under cover of night, with his fingers to guide him, he cupped her face and pressed another kiss to her forehead. He lingered there, resting his head against hers, and spoke again.

"Stephanie—" He struggled with himself as to what he could reveal. "You need never chase me. I am always here for you."

"I know." She sighed, their breaths mingling. "And I am _so_ very sorry. For everything."

"All is forgiven."

He walked her home.


	4. Chapter 4

~*~*~*~

The passing of a month found Sportacus a fixture of Stephanie's life. Often, while she attended classes, he would be found running through the campus or joining in pick-up games of basketball or football. As students became more accustomed to his frequent presence, many of them looking forward to his appearance, they also began noticing his habit of suddenly dropping out of a game—with many apologies—to backflip away and speed off. It didn't take long for a few of them to decide on following him, and when they caught up, chests heaving as they gulped in air from the exertion, some of them dropping to the ground to rest, they found him waiting expectantly outside the Childhood Education building. A scant minute later, a beautiful girl came out the door, cotton-candy pink hair hanging long over her shoulders from under a white knitted cap. She beamed at him, skipped down the stairs, then took his arm as they departed. Questions abounded among the players, all of them wondering about the girl and exactly what kind of relationship she had with Sportacus. At least one suggested asking him about her, and several others wisely advised staying out of their business, but one, from his vantage point on the ground, said he'd just ask his girlfriend who she was—she was in Childhood Education, too, and there can't be _that_ many girls on campus with pink hair like that. Everyone readily agreed, and jogged back across campus.

~*~*~*~

Stephanie's telephone rang in the early morning stillness. Sportacus sat up in his bed, waiting to see if she would answer the line in her room. After the third ring, he heard murmuring through the wall. Turning to sit on the edge of the bed, he waited to see what was happening. His wait was not long—Stephanie appeared around the corner in her robe, rubbing her eyes.

"Sorry—that was Maddy, my TA." At his blank look, she explained, "Teacher's Assistant. She's a grad student. She's also a good friend of mine."

"Ah." He nodded.

"Anyway—she asked me to come in as soon as I can." She yawned. "Said something about one of the girls being sick today, so they're short-handed."

"For a class…?"

"Oh, for the daycare. I'm sorry—I never told you, did I?" He shook his head. "The university operates a daycare…spaces are reserved for faculty, employees, and students with children. It fills up pretty fast, since it's so inexpensive. The kids are—well, studied—by childhood development and education majors. Since it's basically course-related, the university absorbs most of the costs. Pretty nice arrangement, if you can get your kid into it. And don't mind it being a guinea pig, of course." She grinned at him.

"What will you be doing to help?"

"Maddy's about a thirty minute drive from campus. I can be there in ten minutes. She asked if I could go ahead and open up, get the kids in, start some kind of activity." Stephanie paused, thinking. "Not sure what I can get them doing without any prep time, but I'll think of something. I really hate leaving you like this, but I need to help out. Do you mind?"

"Not at all." He stood. "Go—get dressed. I'll have something ready for your breakfast."

She beamed at him and scurried back to her room.

~*~*~*~

Less than five minutes later, she was standing in the kitchen, drinking a fruit-and-yogurt smoothie. Downing the last of it, she wiped her mouth and looked at him.

"How are you with little kids?"

Sportacus looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

She sighed. "I mean _little_ kids. Under five years old."

He shrugged. "I can try."

"Would you? That would be wonderful. Thanks, Sportacus."

"I'm always happy to help, Stephanie."

"Let me get my bag, and we'll go."

She went back to her room, grabbing an over-the-shoulder bag into which she'd stuffed her keys, mobile phone, a clean shirt, some Kleenexes, and a couple of children's books. When she came out again, Sportacus was waiting by the front door, halfway through a banana. She stopped beside him, letting him finish before stepping outside.

The air was cold, their breaths making white curls in the air. Stephanie looked sideways at him. He had no coat, and was still wearing short-sleeved shirts.

"Aren't you cold?"

"It is not that cold outside."

Her eyes widened, then closed as she shook her head at him.

"I'm buying you a coat, today. No ifs, ands, or buts, mister. You _need_ a coat. It's almost freezing out here!"

He didn't speak for a few paces, then finally replied, "It _is_ a little chilly."

"Sportacus, you're a terrible liar." She laughed at him. "Don't you have a coat in your airship?"

"Probably. I have winter gear for cold-weather sports. I cannot imagine the ship would not include a coat among those things."

"Then we'll drive to Happy Valley today and get it." They'd moved the airship to an unused, private airstrip in the next valley. The property owner was happy to oblige, as his grandchildren were thoroughly impressed at the sight. "Will you be okay until then?"

He nodded. "The morning is coldest, but we'll be indoors very soon."

She cut across a parking lot behind the business school, glancing at her watch. "We should get there just in time. There might be a few parents waiting, but we'll beat most of them."

Stephanie had her keys out as they jogged up the sidewalk to the door. A few parents were waiting, looking strangely at the pair. She put on her best smile.

"Good morning, I'm Stephanie. I usually work around lunchtime, but Jen unexpectedly fell ill this morning and asked me to come in for her. I apologize for making you wait." She unlocked the door and motioned everyone inside. Children were hustled indoors, coats and hats and gloves taken off and stashed in name-tagged cubby-holes, snacks put into the refrigerator for later, bathroom breaks taken. After the initial chaos settled, Sportacus found dozens of eyes focused on him, loud child-whispers reaching his ears.

"He wasn't wearing a coat."

"His mommy's gonna be mad at him for not going to the potty."

"What's he got on his shirt?"

"He's got a '10' on his shirt. I can count to ten—one, two, four…"

Stephanie clapped her hands, drawing attention back to herself.

"Good morning, everyone!"

"Good morning, Stephanie." The greeting was a chorus of voices.

"I know you're used to seeing Jen in the mornings, but Jen is sick today." Stephanie made a sad face. "She hopes to be better tomorrow, so she can come back and see all of you." At this, Stephanie smiled widely. "For now, though, we're going to do something together until Maddy arrives for your art class, okay?"

"Okay, Stephanie," the chorus replied.

Sportacus could see Stephanie searching the room for inspiration. He knew how much Stephanie liked being prepared, having everything organized and arranged. Hoping to ease her discomfort at not being ready, he spoke up.

"Who would like to show me how to do jumping jacks?"

Heads swiveled back to him, and several hands shot up, arms waving. One little girl in the back stood and began hopping first on one foot, then the other. A little boy directly in front of him was picking his nose.

Sportacus pointed at a little fellow of about three years of age. "What is your name?"

"Logan." It came out more like "Wo-gan."

"Nice to meet you, Logan. Can you show me how you do jumping jacks?"

"Uh-huh." He started jumping and clapping his hands above his head—not exactly what Sportacus was looking for, but an excellent start.

"That's very good, Logan! Did your mom and dad teach you?"

He nodded.

"Those are very good parents, Logan. They did a great job teaching you. Do you mind if I show you how _I_ do jumping jacks?"

Logan shook his head.

"Wonderful! Let's get started. Everyone stand up, put your feet together, and put your hands beside you—like this…now, jump!..."

~*~*~*~

When Maddy came through the door, she heard a man's voice.

"One more? You think I can do one more? Okay, let's see…"

The children began cheering, "More! One more!"

'What on earth? Where's Stephanie…?'

Maddy looked around the doorway, she saw the children crowded in a circle, completely encircling a man dressed all in blue. He wore a funny cap, had a thin, pointed mustache, a _beautiful_ body, and was juggling soft, foam balls. She counted quickly—seven balls—and then noticed Stephanie standing outside the circle, arms full of foam balls.

'Hang on…_he_ must be the guy Chris was telling me about last night.' She looked at the blue man again, then back to Stephanie. Hanging back, she watched the show. The children were begging still for one more ball, and the blue man nodded to Stephanie, who tossed another expertly into the mix. He caught it, bouncing it off his hand before it could get past him, and now there were eight balls sailing in a great oval above the kids' heads.

She stepped forward, and the movement caught Stephanie's attention. Surprised, she dropped the balls she held, and her sudden movement distracted the blue man. The balls escaped him and rained to the floor, bouncing into the cluster of laughing children surrounding him. He laughed with them, and Stephanie crossed the room to stand with her as he and the children began gathering them all up.

"Maddy!"

"Good morning, Stephanie. Sorry to interrupt."

Stephanie colored. "Sportacus was just showing the kids some things."

"Like what? I mean, aside from juggling."

"Well, we've learned how to do jumping jacks, danced, played some indoor soccer, had a hands-only relay race…there were a couple of more exercises before the juggling."

"Wow…did everyone have fun?"

"Why don't you ask them?"

Maddy smiled at her, walking into the center of the room and standing beside Sportacus. He had kids hanging onto both legs, a little hand clinging to each of his fingers, and everyone was trying to walk in a circle together. There was much laughter, tripping, and giggling. She raised her voice over the din.

"Is everyone having fun?"

"Yes, Maddy!" The chorus returned, and Sportacus stopped turning, gently freeing himself from tiny grasps. He smiled at Maddy.

"Hello. I'm Sportacus…Stephanie's friend."

"Nice to meet you, Sportacus. I'm Maddy. Stephanie's friend and TA."

"She told me about you."

"Did she?"

"Yes, this morning—after you called."

Maddy arched a brow. "Oh."

Sportacus blushed. "I—"

She cut him off. "Would you mind entertaining them just a few more minutes? I need to get caught up on this morning with Stephanie—is that okay?"

"Yes, of course."

"Great. We'll be right outside the door."

Maddy left the room, motioning for Stephanie to follow, and closed the lower half of the Dutch door behind them. She could watch Sportacus from this vantage point, but not have to worry about children wandering out. She pulled Stephanie to the far side of the hall.

"So, Stephanie—what's this guy's story?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Stephanie sighed. "He's the town hero. _Yes_, my hometown has its own hero. He doesn't have any special powers or anything—he just knows when someone needs help, and he shows up in time to save the day."

"Really."

"Yes, really."

"And did you need help this morning?"

Stephanie looked confused. "I don't understand."

"Oh, he just told me he was there when I called. I thought maybe I'd interrupted him _saving the day_."

Stephanie coughed. "No! It was nothing like that—I mean, I've known him since I was _eight_…he's in town, visiting me—he's sleeping on the couch. At my house. On the couch."

"On the couch. I got that." Maddy watched Sportacus "running" around the room, letting the children chase him. "Now that we've got all that cleared up, let me ask you something."

"What?"

Maddy looked back at her. "Why the hell is he sleeping on the couch? Are you out of your _mind_?"

"Maddy!" Stephanie hissed at her. "Can you keep it down?"

"Sure, but you have to tell me—is he as gorgeous naked as I think he is?"

Stephanie turned flame-red. "I have _not_ seen him naked."

"And you can't lie, Stephanie.

"I'm not lying—I've never seen him naked!"

"Almost naked? A _little_ naked?"

Stephanie's shoulders slumped. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Chris tells me that all the time. So, what is it—almost, or a little?"

"A little, okay? I walked in when he was wearing only his trousers."

"Hellooo, kitty. I could go for that."

"Chris seriously doesn't mind you acting like this?"

Maddy laughed. "Chris could care less. He knows it's all talk." She shrugged. "He's the only man I could ever stand. Why would I want to go with anyone else?"

Stephanie peered around the corner, trying to see what the kids were doing to Sportacus. He had them lying on their backs, legs in the air, pretending to be riding bikes. Still watching the children, she explained further.

"Sportacus showed up in town about a month ago…he said my uncle told him to take a break, and suggested he come here. Honestly, it's the first time we've seen each other in four years. I don't go home in the summer, and at Christmas, I visit my parents. My uncle Milford usually comes to their house to see me, and I write pretty regularly—but I don't go home to Lazytown." She turned away from the door, looking very seriously at Maddy. "The last time I saw Sportacus, we were standing on a train station platform, and he was giving me this _look_. It was—it was like he wanted…I don't know, to keep me there, to…something. I don't know. He almost looked…afraid, I guess. And at the last second, he kissed me"—Maddy gasped—"here." Stephanie pointed to her forehead. "Then he took off and didn't look back. He shows up here, gets into—something—with Tim—"

"He got into it with _Tim_?"

"Yes—at least, it looked that way. And we fought over it…actually, I was horrible to him—he didn't fight back. He left. And I went out looking for him until it was dark. I was miles from home, cold, and out there alone. It was terrible—I was sure I'd never see him again, and I just sat down and cried."

"But he came back—I mean, he's here, so he obviously came back."

"He came back as soon as he knew I needed him. He found me out there. I asked him to stay."

"And he did? Just like that?"

Stephanie nodded. "He took me home. But he did the strangest thing—there we were, standing in the dark, couldn't see a thing—and he puts his hands on my face, like this…" Stephanie touched Maddy's face gently, her chin cradled against Stephanie's palms. "And he kissed me again, right there." Stephanie's hands fell away, and she tapped Maddy in the middle of her forehead.

Maddy stared at her. "Stephanie…you should know—Chris asked me last night to find out who you are."

"What?"

"He and the guys play a lot of pick-up games on the Mall. Apparently, your Sportacus plays with them, but always bails at the same time, every day. They followed him yesterday, and watched him wait for you outside. They don't know you, but Chris figured I would, since I'm the TA. I did tell him you're a friend of mine, and he asked me to find out about you and your mystery man, here." She paused. "So, can I ask why you didn't tell _me_ about him?"

"Because he's just a friend. What's there to tell? And what are you going to tell Chris?"

Maddy took her by the hand and pulled her back into the classroom, where Sportacus was performing handstands and telling the kids about "sports candy." She pointed at him. "I'm going to tell Chris the same thing I'm telling you—a man doesn't come all this way for a 'friend.' And if he does, he definitely isn't going to spend his morning helping out at a daycare." Maddy whispered to her as they approached the kids. "Stephanie, if I had to guess, I'd say he wants desperately to be your friend, because he's desperately trying to avoid you becoming something _else_. You understand me?"

"I can't believe that…he's not like that."

"You're not a little girl anymore—quit acting like one and listen to me. People change. _You_ changed. You can't tell me you _honestly_ believe he hasn't noticed. Think about it—it explains the way you said he acted when you left home, the fight with Tim, and the other kiss. It even explains why he left. He's torn, Stephanie, between what he remembers and what you are now. If you ask me, he's trying to make himself _not_ notice the difference. What _you_ need to do is think about this—think about it, and pay attention to the details. _I_ think you need to be honest with yourself and face what you're pretending isn't there."

Before Stephanie could respond, Sportacus backflipped over the children and landed in front of the two women. Maddy spoke first.

"Don't do that again."

"I'm sorry?" Sportacus was taken aback.

"The flip—not _over_ the kids, okay? If a parent walked in…"

"I understand. It will not happen again."

Maddy looked hard at him. Sportacus did not so much as shift under her gaze. After a beat, Maddy smiled and said, "Why don't you two take off? I can handle it from here."

"But—" Stephanie tried to speak, but Maddy cut her off.

"I called Marie on my way over. She's been asking for a few extra hours, anyway, so she volunteered to come in early. She'll be here in about forty-five minutes—we'll be fine until then, really. Go. And thanks, Stephanie, for coming in for me. You were a big help. You, too, blue man."

Sportacus smiled at her. "It was my pleasure."

"I'll bet." Maddy winked at him, then shepherded the children to another area for art class.

Sportacus looked over at Stephanie, putting her coat and hat on by the cubby-holes. "Your friend is…different."

"Yes…she is that."

~*~*~*~


	5. Chapter 5

~*~*~*~

Stephanie was distracted during the walk home. Her mind raced, full of Maddy's words. _You're not a little girl anymore. Pay attention to the details. Face what you're pretending isn't there_. Sportacus had watched her grow up—his behavior toward her had never changed. Okay, so _that_ was completely untrue…otherwise, he would never have kissed her at the station those years ago. And what _about_ the kissing? Did it really mean something? He'd never done it before—she'd never seen him do that to anyone, ever, so it _had_ to mean something. And the day they went kayaking—what had been said between him and Tim that would make Sportacus act that way? As Stephanie thought, she noticed Sportacus looking at her curiously.

"What?"

"Something is on your mind?"

"Oh…just something Maddy was telling me."

"Can I be of help?"

Stephanie couldn't tell him exactly what they'd discussed—then she remembered Chris. "Remember when I asked you what you did on campus while I working at the daycare, and you told me you'd found some people playing basketball and they let you join the game? Well, Maddy's boyfriend is one of those guys—Chris."

"Chris? Tall fellow, red hair? What of him?"

"He was asking about me."

Sportacus' brows drew together, and he frowned. "Why?"

"According to Maddy, he and his friends followed you the other day and saw you meet me. Now, they're wondering who I am—and what's…going on…between us."

Sportacus looked away. "Miss Busybody has competition, I think."

Stephanie laughed.

He looked at her, unsmiling. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her we're friends, that you came to visit me."

He held her eyes another moment—her heart skipped a beat. Sportacus looked away again, and said nothing further. They reached her house only a few minutes later, and she excused herself to her room, pleading fatigue from her early morning.

Once in private, she determined to follow Maddy's recommendations. She lay back on the bed, willing herself to think back over the course of her years with Sportacus and look for anything—different. Her memories were as she'd always remembered them, but—as she considered the summer of her eighteenth year, that magical summer being Sportacus' assistant in the camp—she began to take stock of the subtle changes in their dynamic. Time alone together—which had been rare—became an everyday occurrence. She realized it was the beginning of him treating her as an equal—he never referred to her as an "assistant." She was his partner in everything those weeks. She remembered her confessional—telling him she was excited to be going away, but terrified she might not be up to it. His smile had been so gentle, his hands on her arms so warm, and he'd told her he had every faith in her ability to make friends and find her place.

She thought about her going-away party, about his distant behavior, how quiet he had been. His gift had been writing paper and a beautiful pen, with an admonition not to forget everyone. She had laughed, then, and promised to use the paper to write to him, and him alone—'every day,' she'd said, 'sometimes twice.' His cheeks had flushed, and he excused himself, saying he was delaying her when the other guests wanted to see her. That was the most he'd spoken to her that night, beyond a good-bye and a smile as she stood with Uncle Milford at the door as everyone was leaving.

She considered how she had felt the next day, when her friends and family had left her alone on the platform—at Miss Busybody's plea that her makeup would be ruined from crying if she and Uncle Milford didn't leave _right away_—and how surprised and pleased she'd been to see Sportacus to appear. She thought about his face—now, with some of her own experiences to reference, she began to recognize the look. He _had_ been afraid—but there was more in the eyes she saw in her memory…and in the eyes she'd been looking into every day for over a month.

_Sadness_. _Need_. _Longing_. _Hope_.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she breathed deeply. Stephanie felt suddenly overwhelmed, too stunned to consider the implication her thoughts had reached. _Had_ she been pretending to not notice? Or was she really so blind?

She curled onto her side, thoughts a jumble. Even if it _were_ true—what about _her_ feelings? She'd thought what she and Tim had shared had been love…but this? This was vastly different. And if she was mistaken, she'd lose her best friend. What next, though? Did she dare ask him outright? Somehow convince him to admit it?

She sighed. 'No. None of that. I'll just keep on like we have been, and see what happens.'

The decision gave little relief, as she still didn't know her own mind. But one thing she _had_ determined to do. Rolling off the bed, she went back to the living room. He was standing by the window, back straight, legs slightly apart, looking out at the world passing them by.

She approached him silently, her hand slipping into his as she came up beside him. He started, looking down at their entwined fingers. When he lifted his eyes to hers, she sucked in a breath. It was undeniable—his eyes were telling her everything his lips refused to say. Hoping to speak to him in kind, she smiled gently, the corners of her mouth turning up only slightly. She willed her eyes to show him comfort and acceptance, even as her heart beat double-time.

Something in his eyes shifted, changed…and he smiled at her. They were quiet a few moments before he broke the silence.

"Would you object to picking up my coat, now?"

~*~*~*~

End of term was approaching, and Stephanie was struggling to complete her assignments. She was exhausted—both from her coursework responsibilities, and by her constant hyper-awareness of Sportacus. Realizing how he must feel about her, knowing he'd been distancing himself from those feelings for so long, and trying to learn her _own_ feelings had driven her to distraction on more than one occasion.

Even so, she couldn't imagine trading these weeks. They were closer than they'd ever been…but the tantalizing possibility of more overshadowed and colored every moment together.

~*~*~*~

"Sportacus…wake up…Sportacus!" She was whispering, not wanting to startle him. He turned on his side, the blanket slipping. She'd finally convinced him to sleep in regular clothes, and the shirt he wore had ridden up, revealing golden skin.

Her fingers itched to touch it.

He cracked open an eye. "Stephanie…" His voice was rough with sleep. "What's wrong?"

"It's snowing."

He blinked a couple of times. "Snow?"

"Mmm-hmm. There's already a couple of inches on the ground."

He sat up, swinging his feet out and onto the floor. They both padded over to the window, peering out between the curtains. The world outside was blanketed in white; only the security lights at each drive illuminated the landscape.

"How long have you been up?" He looked at the clock—it was after two in the morning.

"Haven't gone to bed, yet. I was working on a paper, and went to the kitchen for some water. That's when I saw it. I wasn't going to bother you…"

"I'm glad you did." He hugged her close with one arm.

She sighed. "It's times like these when I wish my bedroom had a window."

"Why?"

"I could open the curtains and watch it until I fall asleep."

Sportacus regarded her carefully for a moment, then released her. He pulled open the curtains and led her to his bed.

"Sleep here."

"What about you?"

"I'll sleep on the floor."

She spoke the first, impulsive words popping into her head. "No—you can stay."

He looked at her, eyes searching her face, then pulled back the covers and let her slide in. Once she was comfortable, he slipped in beside her, mentally preparing for a long night.

Stephanie shifted in the bed, daring to snuggle closer. "You're so warm." She raised up, looking at him. "Can you—" she indicated a position with a sweeping motion, "—your arm?"

He hesitated, then stretched out one arm along the pillow, looking at her questioningly.

"Thanks." She lay back down, her head pillowed on his bicep, and turned in the bed to get a better view of the window.

His body was coiled tightly, fighting every urge to move the arm upon which she rested. Her hair tickled his skin, its fragrance filling his nostrils. He turned his head slightly, noting the fullness of her lips—and the dangerously small amount of space he'd need to cross to taste them.

He swallowed hard, willed his body to relax, and tried to focus on the snow falling outside. Time crept by, his arm went numb—and still he refused to move. Shortly after, Stephanie's breathing evened out, and he knew she was sleeping. Gently, raising himself over her and using his other hand to lift her head, he extricated his arm from beneath her neck. When it was free, he braced his weight on it and looked down at her. Long lashes made dark crescents on her cheeks, her pink hair lay across her throat like a ribbon. She moved in her sleep, an exhale of breath like a sigh.

His heart clenched and raced, and he lowered his face to hers. They were millimeters apart, and he studied every curve and dip of her features. He sighed against her lips, and pressed a light kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Her mouth turned under the pressure and met his—his heart felt as if it would stop, then rushed with adrenaline. He tried to pull away, but her softness followed him, reaching. He succumbed, meeting her in gentleness, lips brushing, parting, meeting again. The kiss was chaste, and when at last they parted, she met his eyes in the near-darkness.

Neither spoke.

Sportacus brushed her hair back, looked again at her lips. He held her chin fast with his fingertips and pressed another kiss to the corner of her mouth. Releasing her, he laid back and pulled her close. He felt her body relax, and molded himself to her before slipping into sleep.

~*~*~*~

As Christmas came nearer and nearer, their routine became firmly established. During daylight hours, it was as if nothing had changed…but night often found her coming to him, crawling into his bed and basking in his warmth. His large hands would skim her arms, reaching, learning her shape. Her sighs and whimpers guided him to things that pleased her—if it became too much, he needed only her hands stilling his. She yielded to his exploration, tentatively beginning one of her own—her smaller hands gliding over smooth skin and taut muscles, fingers in his hair or twisted in his shirt as they kissed.

They dared not entirely heed the impulses and cravings that drove them. Sportacus was fearful—terrified she would open her eyes, her mouth, and reject him—though his heart swelled with pleasure and happiness. Even as his lips moved silently against her skin, Stephanie felt a need to wait—just a little longer—and he never questioned, never pushed.

Still, they did not speak, beyond a name sighed.

And there remained lines yet uncrossed.

~*~*~*~

Stephanie was at the kitchen sink, washing dishes from their supper. He stood by the counter, towel in hand, watching her scrub and rinse every cup, plate, and fork. She hummed to herself as she worked, and he listened quietly. When she'd finished, he'd come to her side and dried everything, handing it back to her to be put away. Their fingers grazed as each item was passed, and she smiled warmly at him, thanking him for helping.

Sportacus was torn. It was maddening, trying to reconcile their daytime relationship—a friendship tempered with intimacy—with the increasingly frequent visits she made to his bed in the late hours. He craved her—the scent of her, the softness of her skin, the sweetness of her lips, the breathless way she said his name…

He closed his eyes tightly, pushing away the images. 'This cannot go on,' he thought. 'One of us will fall, or I will go mad.'

The idea of asking her was anathema to him—he could not. Not until he _knew_, beyond all possibilities, that she wanted this, wanted him. There were moments, when she looked into his eyes, that he felt certain he could never doubt her feelings for him, but dawn came and her mask slipped into place. It hurt to wonder—was the mask for him? for herself? or was she hiding from everyone else, and not realizing she was hiding from him, too?

He loved her. Of all heaven's angels, she was the brightest, the most beautiful, the one he adored above all others. He never thought himself a poet, but he understood the fire that drove men to translate passion to words. _He_ burned with words unsaid.

'Oh, yes,' he decided, 'I _will_ go mad.'

~*~*~*~

Stephanie watched as he shoveled snow from her drive. It was several inches deep, and falling faster. It seemed he could make no progress—as he gained ground from the road to her Jeep, the snow filled in behind. He'd refused to give up, insisting she would be able to get out, make it down the mountain to the airport.

It was three days until Christmas, and Stephanie was snowed in.

"I can take you in the airship." His face was red from the cold, despite the striped scarf about his neck, and the hat pulled low over his eyes.

"Sportacus—don't be silly. Even if we could _get_ to the airship—which is not going to happen, since we can't get the car out to even _attempt_ the drive to Happy Valley—this cold front is too strong to think about trying it. It'd be too dangerous, and you know it."

"Your family…"

"…will understand. My dad told me this would probably happen. He's been watching the weather reports. We're in the wedge—where clouds get stuck in the mountains and the moisture is wrung out of them. It'll be like this for _days_, Sportacus. We could have a couple of feet on the ground by Christmas morning."

She stomped the snow from her feet and turned to go inside.

"I'm going to call mom and dad, let them know I won't be in. Guess I'll call Uncle Milford, too, so he won't worry." She peered at him through flakes as big as goose feathers. "Come in, Sportacus. Let it snow. Let it get two feet deep, if it wants. We have food, we have each other for company—I can't think of a better way to be snowed in."

She entered the house. He sighed, his breath warming his nose. Looking around once, he conceded defeat, returned the shovel to the shed, and escaped indoors. Stephanie was already on the telephone when he came in. She held up a finger, indicating he should be silent.

"I know, Mom—it's rotten. But I can't take the chance…I know you know that, Mom…I promise to not try to make it out…no, I won't catch a ride with anyone, either, I promise…I have your presents here—I can take them to the Post Office and have them shipped overnight, ok?...no, Mom, I can walk there…" She laughed. "Tell Dad I don't think I need crampons just yet…I'm going to call him as soon as I hang up…I love you, too, Mom—give a kiss to Dad for me, ok? And I promise to call on Christmas…love you, Mom…'bye."

She hung up and looked over at him.

"I need to call Uncle Milford. Mom said he's been in a state all day, worrying about me."

Sportacus nodded. She turned back to dial.

"Hi, Uncle Milford...no, we didn't leave…it's probably five or six inches deep already…we tried, but the snow was coming down faster than Sportacus could clear it…yes, I just talked to Mom…I told her I'm shipping the presents tomorrow afternoon…no, it doesn't matter how much it'll cost—I want everyone to have them Christmas Day…don't worry about mine, I can get them later…really?" She covered the mouthpiece, smiled at him. "Stingy and Trixie are coming to Lazytown for Christmas."

"That's wonderful."

"I know—I'll have to call them Christmas Day, too. I can't wait to hear what they've been up to—probably been in Egypt or somewhere else that's warm."

She turned her attention back to the call.

"He's fine, Uncle…we've done a lot together—didn't you get my letters?...I know, I'm usually in such a hurry I don't get to write everything I would like to…Sportacus keeps me busy…well, we're always going somewhere—we went skiing last weekend…I only fell once…he has _never_ let me get hurt, you know he wouldn't." She rolled her eyes. "I _know_, Uncle Milford…but I don't expect him to make everything perfect. He's fine as he is."

She smiled warmly at him.

His heartbeat began a faster rhythm.

"I'll call again, soon…you, too, Uncle…drive safe…'bye." She hung up.

They gazed at one another across the small room. He was warm, too warm, in his coat. He tugged at the scarf, loosening it. Her eyes took in every movement as she watched his deft fingers begin to peel away the outer layers of his clothing.

"I want a tree."

His hands froze. "I'm sorry?"

She blinked, eyes focusing on his. "A tree. I need a Christmas tree."

Sportacus picked up his coat again. "Is there somewhere nearby?"

"I think the grocery store still had a few."

"How far?"

"Two miles, I think."

He slipped on his gloves. "Better bundle up. It'll be a long walk."

~*~*~*~

They stumbled into the store, Stephanie feeling as if she were frozen through. She staggered, and Sportacus gripped her waist to keep her upright. He looked around, and saw a bench near the deli counter. Guiding her to it, he eased her onto the seat and felt her nose and fingers.

"You need better gloves, Stephanie." He looked down. "And taller boots."

"I thought these would be ok. I wear them all the time."

"Yes—but you're not usually walking two miles in the snow."

She shook her head. "Guess not. I'll get a better pair as soon as I can."

Sportacus waited a few more minutes, wanting her to warm up before venturing back out. He left her on the bench as he walked the aisles, picking up a few items, reading the labels, and putting them back in great haste. He found his way to the produce department and began selecting fruits. His hands were full when he came back to her.

"Hungry?" She eyed the armload he carried.

"I thought it would be nice." He retrieved something from a pocket and held it out for her to see.

Chocolate.

She was taken aback. "Sportacus—that's…that's _candy_."

"No—it's Belgian chocolate. For dipping."

"You mean—chocolate fondue?"

He nodded.

"But you never—"

"You do."

Stephanie gazed at him. "You're serious?"

"Yes."

She stood, grinning. "Ok, let's pay for everything and get home."

He smiled at her.

~*~*~*~

Sportacus dragged the tree two miles back to her cottage, Stephanie trailing behind with the paper bag containing the fruit. She strongly suspected it would be frozen before they reached home, but didn't care. At the moment, her heart was thrumming with excitement, her head awhirl with plans to decorate the tree, perhaps convince Sportacus to watch a movie with her, and then…

And then…what?

They'd occupied the time since term ended by going skiing, going on a couple of short hikes, and getting her ready to go to her parents' house. They'd dodged the question of where _he_ would go, and now it seemed a moot point. Her uncle had still not seen reason to call him back to Lazytown, she would be remaining in town until term began again…why shouldn't he stay?

She would ask him tonight.

~*~*~*~

Stephanie tossed down the last box of decorations from the attic, then scrambled down the ladder to the waiting warmth of the rooms below. The tree stood in front of the living room window, and Sportacus was holding a hair dryer to the limbs in an effort to dry the tree enough to safely hold lights. She grinned at his back, reaching into a box for a sprig of artificial mistletoe. Peering at the ceiling, she tried to decide where to hang it, and opted instead to place it in the kitchen doorway. She puttered around a bit longer, putting out a Nativity scene over here, long ropes of garland over there, slipping past him to put electric candles on the windowsill.

"I think it's dry."

His voice was flat, perhaps uncertain.

She came to his side, running her fingers over the needles. "It feels fine. I think the dryer worked great. Thanks, Sportacus." She beamed at him, then turned away to get a strand of lights. "Would you mind?"

He put the hair dryer aside, taking the coil of mini-lights. Starting at the top, he began to loop the tiny bulbs 'round and 'round the tree, and when he was farther down and could no longer simply pass the lights from one hand to another, she stepped in to help. The lights were on and glowing in short order, and Sportacus helped her drape the garland and place a few ornaments before he was handed a golden, glittering star.

"For the top."

He reached up, sliding the star over the very top of the tree. It wobbled a bit, then stopped.

"What do you think?"

He looked at the tree, then at her. "I think it's lovely."

"It needs presents." She disappeared from the room, coming back with a few boxes.

Sportacus eyed them in curiosity. Expecting his reaction, she held up two of them.

"This one is Maddy's—we exchange gifts after New Year's…and this one," she rattled the box, "is yours."

It was wrapped in heavy blue paper and tied with a broad white ribbon.

"Stephanie…I don't—"

She put the boxes aside, meeting his eyes. "If you want to give me something—then stay. Don't go until after New Year's Day, at least."

Sportacus didn't know what to say.

"I mean—I know we didn't talk about it, but we both knew you'd go home when I left here to see my parents." She twisted a fingertip in her other hand. "Now that I'm staying, I want you to stay, too."

He shifted his stance, glancing down at his own hands, then back to her. "If you're sure it's what you want."

"I'm absolutely sure."

Sportacus started to move, hesitated—then came closer to her. He looked into her eyes, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. It was one of the rare moments of intimacy they shared during the day, and she was surprised by her strong reaction. She felt something inside opening up at his touch, and laced her fingers into the hair at his neck, deepening the kiss. His hands grasped at her, gliding over her back, down her arms, cupping her face and sinking into her hair. She felt she was being devoured, and her heart pounded with the thrill of it. They stumbled, nearly falling, breaking free from one another. He held her hand as she caught her breath, and she saw how dark his eyes had become.

They stared at one another, pulses slowing.

"I will stay."


	6. Chapter 6

~*~*~*~

She succeeded in watching a movie with him, though most of the time had passed with her eating small bits and slices of banana and strawberry dipped in chocolate. The combination of textures and sweetness was delightful, and she felt seven ways sinful for eating so much. She'd mentioned as much to Sportacus, only to have him laugh and say she would make up for it later.

The loaded comment—for which he'd apologized, explaining it had not been meant as it sounded—had distracted her further from the movie. Not long after, she declared she was ready for bed, and asked if he needed help getting his ready.

He declined, but she remained in the room, moving things out of his way. Only when he tried to extend the bed did they realize the tree was sitting where the bed normally did. He closed it back up.

"It's only a few days—I'll sleep on the couch."

She said nothing, her mind turning over an idea, considering, deciding. A choice was made, the die was cast. Her voice wavered. "You can sleep in my room."

Sportacus turned guarded eyes on her, allowing a long moment to pass before replying. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He searched her face for a sign of anything amiss. She let him, then left the room.

He followed.

~*~*~*~

Stephanie's nightly ritual finished, she re-entered her bedroom. Her teeth felt clean and smooth, her face cool. Her stomach was filled with butterflies. She crazily debated for a moment whether she should change into something else, something more adult, more alluring, but the only things she had were things she'd worn for Tim, and she couldn't bear to wear those now, not for Sportacus.

She was reeling from her choice. Was she making a mistake? Everything in his actions said otherwise, but she couldn't help doubting herself for even the briefest of moments. If they did this, there would be no turning back, no pretending they were something else to one another.

The door opened, and Sportacus walked in. Her eyes roamed his body—he wore black pants and a white shirt, the sleeves tight against the muscles of his arms. She knew every line and sinew of those arms already, knew those hands nearly as well as her own. She had pillowed her head against that broad chest and drunk deep of the scent of him.

Something in her uncurled, relaxed.

He tried not to look at her, tried not to notice how the top of her pink flannel pajamas had slid off one shoulder, the creamy, soft expanse of skin glowing in the low light. He slipped into her bed, opening his arms to her as she shut off the lamp, pressing herself to him.

The house was quiet, except for the faint ticking of the kitchen clock. She lay in his arms, listening to the minutes pass, unable to decide whether to make the first move, or wait for him. She tried to find a happy medium, letting her hand slide across his chest, lightly scraping her nails as she pulled it back. She heard his sharp intake of breath and felt his arm stiffen beneath her neck. Reaching in ever-increasing circles, her fingertips dipped low on his waist, and he bit back a groan.

Her small hands drifted over him, and he thought, for the tiniest instant, he'd finally reached madness. He broke.

"Stephanie…" Her name was choked out, barely above a whisper.

Almost feeling as if she were possessed, she leaned up to his ear, her hand pressed firmly to his chest, directly above his heart.

"It's ok," she murmured, "…I want this. I want you."

His whole body seemed to turn to stone under her hands. She pulled away, suddenly confused. He left her there, rising from the bed to stand in the darkness. A scant moment later, he was pulling his shirt off and returning to the bed. He felt for her hand, guiding it back to his chest, placing it again over his heart.

His voice was low and rough. "Stephanie—all that I am…it is yours."

She pulled her hand back, reaching for his face. She kissed him, gently, upon the lips. "I want to be yours."

He sighed under her mouth, snaked a hand into her hair, and kissed her deeply. She wrapped herself around him, sliding against his bare skin. The kisses became more frantic; they were gripping, clamoring for more contact. She reached between them and unbuttoned her shirt, sliding it off one arm, then another, before tossing it aside. She pressed her bare breasts against him, allowing him to cup her and pull her closer. His hands slid up her back, pressing her hard against his chest, his lips were at her throat. Warm palms ran over her shoulders, pushing her down into his lap; the hardness underneath her was thrilling.

Soon, even that was not enough, and he sought her eyes in the darkness. His whisper barely reached her ears.

"Please—let me see you."

She hesitated, then reached again for the light. She switched it on and dimmed it. Faint as it was, it was enough for him to see her as he'd asked, and he pressed kisses to her skin as he lay her back. They both freed themselves from the rest of their clothing, and she was grateful the low light hid her blush. Sportacus was more favorably built than Tim, and her anticipation heightened under his caresses.

He was kneeling now, kissing her fingertips as he bent over her reclined form. He looked once more at her eyes, asking again for permission. She smiled, and he stretched along her length to place a lingering kiss upon her lips.

She tried to get comfortable, was out of practice—didn't know what to expect of this man—he was over her now, gently parting her legs. He slipped one arm under her knee, raising it slightly…pressed a kiss to her lower thigh…then he was pushing into her and she was blooming around him. He entered her slowly, deliciously, and she remembered how much she'd enjoyed sex with Tim, but oh, god, he was nothing like _this_.

Sportacus moved over her and inside her, his hands and lips everywhere. He was large and warm and so…sure…and he wasn't rough or hurried or…demanding…he was steady, and strong, and so…filling…

He lifted her knee again, pressing hard into her. She felt something change, a flame catch somewhere below. He was rubbing against her, not just stretching; the friction was making her burn.

He showed no mercy, increasing his pace, his force…he was kissing her madly, nipping at her throat and breasts, touching her everywhere. She clung to him, her body undulating in long, languorous moves, rising and falling in tempo with him. His breathing grew more ragged, and he began murmuring words she didn't understand against the flesh above her heart. She felt on fire, all the way to her fingertips, and she wanted so badly to ignite, to burn. Her body tightened, she felt him rubbing still against her, that delicious friction making her slippery and more lustful than she remembered ever feeling.

He thumbed her, lightly, a flick across her most sensitive spot, and she bit back a cry, clamping down on him. He groaned, pushed into her again and again, and she finally caught—her body glowed in euphoria.

She felt him grip her hips tightly, holding her body against his—he met her gaze, then looked down to where they were joined. He pushed hard into her a final time, then his eyes fell closed and she felt his release.

He buried his head against her neck. She felt his hot breath against her skin as he unwound, his hands stroking down her sides.

She was in heaven.

~*~*~*~

Stephanie woke early, the room dim with gray light coming from the hallway, and turned in the bed to face Sportacus. He was still sleeping, his hand curled against his chest. She reached out, one finger tracing along his face—skimming his brow, down the sharp slope of his nose, brushing against his lips. She felt his warm breath on her hand, and smiled. Her fingers fanned out, touching his cheek, sliding along his jaw, her thumb resting on his chin.

She allowed herself a moment to let reality sink in: she was lying in bed with _Sportacus_. Her heart swelled, and she smiled. He had loved her, had filled her and sated her. Her eyes drifted closed briefly, her belly warming at the memory.

She smoothed her hand across his face, and he turned into the caress, even in his sleep. She scooted closer to him, almost nose-to-nose. Her hand began to slide downward, over his throat and along his arm, her nails skating down his chest and still lower. His eyelids fluttered, and she nudged his nose with hers. Her hand found what it sought, and she grasped him.

His eyes opened slowly, trying for a moment to focus on her face. Then sensation overtook him and they drifted closed again. She saw his jaw tighten, and his hand closed around her wrist, stopping her.

"Please…"

"What, Sportacus?" she whispered.

He opened his eyes again, piercing in their clarity. "It's…too much. I would like better to…" he kissed her lightly, "…be inside you."

She felt herself flush, and nodded her assent. He clutched her hips and lifted her, guiding her down and onto him. She hissed at the tenderness in her body, and he stopped, concern in his face.

"Stephanie—have I hurt you?"

"No…no—it's just…it's been a while."

She started to move on him, but his hands went to her arms and stilled her. "Wait—"

Their eyes met, and he shifted in the bed, turning them onto their sides, sliding her gently off his body. Sportacus pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulled her close and wrapped her in his arms.

She relaxed against him, her ear against his chest, listening to the tattoo of his heart. She nuzzled him, sighing contentedly, and drifted back to sleep.

When she woke again, it was to the feeling of Sportacus' fingers tracing patterns on her skin. She shivered, the feather-light touches tickling her.

He whispered in her ear, "Awake now, are we?"

She laughed softly against his breastbone. "Sorry…I guess I was warm and comfortable. You're really nice to sleep with, you know." She yawned, her head still fuzzy. "Tim was always hogging the bed—I never slept well when he was here."

A pin drop would've deafened them, the silence was so great. She realized immediately her error. Sportacus said nothing, but she could feel the tension in him.

"I'm so sorry…I wasn't thinking—"

"I wish you had never met him." His voice was in a register she'd never heard, and his eyes had hardened. "He did not deserve you." She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "He marked you."

She shook her head, telling him no, trying to make him understand, but he pressed on.

"He had you first." Sportacus sat up, rolling to the edge of the bed, not looking at her. He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. They sat in silence for a few moments before he hissed, "_I_ should have been first."

Stephanie's eyes widened, and she reached out to him. When her hand brushed his shoulder, however, he shrank from the touch.

"I wanted you that summer—but I was afraid…did not want to frighten you—give you reason to hate me. I did not want to face what I felt." His shoulders fell. "I let you leave." A softness crept into his voice. "I let you go, and he hurt you." Sportacus hung his head, rubbing his face with his hands. "I had always kept you safe…and I failed you because I was weak."

Stephanie didn't know how to respond. He'd wanted her, and said nothing. Over three years had passed, and he had lived with and regretted his silence through the duration. Not once in his letters to her had he revealed an inkling of his feelings—would probably have kept his silence, had it not been for his visit. Was that why he felt responsible for what happened between Tim and herself? But he'd not known…and how could he have failed her? She _chose_ to give herself to Tim—there was no way she could've known it would end badly, no need to think she'd needed rescuing.

She rose to her knees, shuffling across the bed and pressing herself to his back. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed a kiss to his neck and rested her chin on his shoulder. One hand reached up to stroke his hair as she held him close. "Sportacus…it's not your fault. How could you think that?"

He lifted his head, turning it slightly and looking sideways to meet her eyes. "If I had been forthright—honest—with you…with myself…perhaps—perhaps you would have stayed…or would not have been interested in him…you would—would have…"

"Been yours?"

His eyes were too bright, and he said nothing, only nodded.

She shifted her weight, sitting backwards beside him. "Sportacus—tell me something."

One eyebrow lifted.

"Am I _your_ first?"

He grew very still and averted his gaze.

"I _know_ I'm not. And guess what—_I don't mind_. I don't want to hear about her, or them, but I'm not going to be upset by it."

"This is different."

"How?"

"That was before I knew you…long before. This—I should not have let you go without having told you how much you mean to me."

She reached up to kiss him. "I think I _did_ know, somehow…but…I didn't even know what _I_ felt. Who knows what might've happened. I might have regretted it, and resented you." Her fingers rested against his chin, turning his face to hers. "Just so you know," she whispered, "I used to lie in bed and think of you. I missed you—talking with you, seeing you, everything. I _never_ forgot you." She kissed him again. "Forget about him—I am. All that matters to me now is what I have with you."

Sportacus threaded his fingers into her hair, crawling back into the bed. He pulled her on top of him, fingers grasping her hips like a vise, kissing her desperately as he lowered her onto his hardness again. He began to slide her forward and back, leading her into a rhythm—then lifted her up, only to ease her body back onto his with agonizing slowness. Once fully inside her again, he shifted back against the headboard until he was upright, her seated astride him. She was rocking gently against the fullness inside, her eyes half-closed in pleasure. He pulled her down, hard, against him, grinding her against his hips. She groaned and fell forward, pressing her lips to his neck as his pace increased. Stephanie felt the flame catch again, and gasped with the pleasure of it. Without warning, he pulled out, and was bending her backwards, pushing her back onto the bed, taking her legs under his arms and guiding her back onto him. She could only clutch at the blankets and whimper at the new sensations. His fingers touched her, rubbing in small circles and sending sparks dancing along her nerves. She came apart under his hands, and he was over her again, kissing her, driving into her with a fierceness that took her to the brink a second time.

It was a long time before they made it from the bedroom for breakfast.

~*~*~*~

The post office was only two blocks away, and Sportacus carried the cardboard box she'd packed her gifts into, her neat handwriting spelling out the destination of the package.

She walked alongside him, occasionally bumping his shoulder with her own. Each time, he'd look at her, and she'd grin at him, then blush and laugh and hide her face behind her hands.

"Stephanie—what are you laughing at?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry—it's just…I feel really good, right now. Really, _really_ good." They were coming up the walk to the post office doorway, and she opened the door for him. "Every time I look at you, I start thinking about…_you know_."

Sportacus stopped shy of the door. His eyes roamed over her—clad in a thick coat, long, colorful scarf, white knitted cap, and striped mittens—she was completely lovely. He leaned close to her ear—"So do I."

Stephanie flushed bright red. He winked at her and went inside, her leading him to the counter and the harried postman. After her package had been weighed and the postage paid, she took his arm and they left. Still holding onto him as they returned down the snow-covered sidewalk, they were discussing her suggestions for lunch when someone turned away from a teller machine and stepped into their path. She slipped, her feet flying out from under her, and Sportacus caught her easily, holding her under her arms until she regained balance. Once steadied, she looked at the person she'd nearly run into.

Tim. He was dressed for the weather, and was obviously appraising them as the three faced off on the sidewalk. Sportacus moved slightly ahead of her, keeping himself between them, if only barely.

"Steph. How are you?" he was friendly, his voice warm.

"I'm…wonderful." She couldn't help the smile, or the lingering glance at Sportacus.

Tim picked up on the look, glancing between them. His face darkened. "I have to go." He took off, casting back an angry look at Sportacus.

They watched him leave, and Sportacus commented on the parting glare. "He is unhappy to see you with me."

"Then that's _his_ problem." Stephanie set her jaw. "You know what? I don't care what he thinks. What _I_ think is…we should go on home, put on a pot of soup, and make love in the living room floor. Right there in front of the Christmas tree." She smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling.

Sportacus laughed, lowering his voice before speaking. "I would have thought you would be satisfied by now."

Her eyes grew very dark, and her grip on his arm tightened. "Oh, no…I haven't had my fill of you, yet."

His heart swelled and quickened, and he hurried her along.

~*~*~*~

They stumbled through the front door, Stephanie laughing.

"Poor Mrs. Arbuckle! I doubt she ever expected to see me doing _that_."

Sportacus was mortified. Stephanie had whispered things to him during the last leg of their walk, and he'd been inflamed by her suggestions. They'd cut across the back yard to save time, and thinking they were secluded enough, he'd caught her in his arms and pressed her against a tree, his hands stealing into her coat and holding her tight as he'd kissed her breathless. She'd clung to him, her whimpers and moans loud in the white stillness.

Then a screen door had slammed, and they pulled apart, looking toward the sound. Stephanie's neighbor was standing on her back porch, holding a bag of stale bread she'd saved for the birds, her mouth agape at the two of them.

Stephanie had stammered a greeting and pulled him along behind her as she raced to the door, almost doubled over in laughter as she unlocked the bolts.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at him. "Oh, Sportacus—don't worry. She'll not say anything about it, except maybe to her husband." Here she laughed again. "And I'm sure he'll enjoy the story—he has a wicked sense of humor." She pulled at his scarf, reaching for the zip of his coat. "Right now, I'd like very much to pick up where we left off…"

And his lips and hands were on her again, and she felt herself being lifted up from the floor. Wrapping her legs around him, she let him carry her to the bedroom as she covered his face in kisses.

~*~*~*~

"We really should start on that soup." Stephanie was lying in bed, stretched along Sportacus' length, one leg draped across his waist, one hand in his hair. Her other hand was supporting her head, and she looked down at him. "What do you think?"

"I think I'll start chopping the vegetables."

"Hungry, then?"

His hand slid over her hip, giving her small waist a squeeze. "Yes, I am."

She shook her head and laughed, reaching for her robe as she stood. "Come on, then. You start on the chopping, and I'll start the base." Stephanie leaned over to kiss him, then left the room.

Sportacus remained behind a moment, smiling broadly, then slid his clothes on and followed her to the kitchen.

~*~*~*~

"I love Christmas." She was cradling a bowl of vegetable soup, looking at the twinkling lights of the tree. "Remember when Robbie tried to ruin Christmas dinner?"

"Which time?"

Stephanie looked over at him, rolled her eyes, and laughed. "That's true. He's nothing if not consistent." She lifted the spoon to her lips. "Do you wonder where he is?"

Sportacus nodded. "Of course. He's been gone a long time. It concerns me."

"Do you think something's happened to him?"

"I cannot be sure. My crystal will only work for him when we are both in Lazytown—when he left, I could no longer detect if he were in danger. If he had returned, your uncle would have told me."

Stephanie ate in silence. Then, "Maybe he went to visit someone—a relative. Or…" She paused. "I don't know where else he could be."

"It is kind of you to worry about him." Sportacus looked at her, pride in his eyes.

"He's not _that_ bad a person—misguided, mostly. I think he'd be really nice to know, if he didn't try so hard to be unpleasant." She wrinkled her nose.

He laughed at her displeasure. "Sometimes, Stephanie, people simply like to be left alone. Robbie is one of those people."

"But he doesn't have to ruin everyone else's fun while he's at it."

"That's why you have me around," he reminded her.

Stephanie took another bite of soup. "Yes, but now I have you for _another_ reason." She grinned at him, peering up through her lashes. "And I think I like the new reason even more."

Sportacus colored, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She paused, looking at him seriously. "Sportacus—you know…this—what we're doing…" She struggled for words. "It's not just about being _with_ you…you mean so much more to me than that."

"I know." His blue eyes were like flames. "Stephanie…I _know_." Taking the bowl from her and putting it aside, he pulled her close and pressed his lips to her ear, urgently whispering what needed to be said. "I hear it in your voice when you speak and see it in your eyes when you look at me…when you touch me, I feel it through your fingertips." He paused. "I hear it in every sigh, every gasp, when we are together—and when you cry when you…" His breath was hot against her skin. "I—I can't help but love you all the more." He breathed deeply, the scent of her filling him. He pulled away, cupping her face in his hands and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

Hot tears dripped from her eyes, and her heart was pounding. She reached up blindly, her hands on his face, pulling him down for a kiss. "Oh, I love you, too…"

Sportacus kissed her again, once, before standing and pulling her to her feet. He lifted her in his arms and wrapped her in a hug, holding her so tight she groaned, laughing when he released her. His eyes were bright, almost glittering, and he felt he couldn't smile any more. He had to _move_, to get out, and he grabbed her hands. "Let's go!"

She reeled, smiling and confused. "Go? Go where?"

"Anywhere!" He reached for his coat. When they were bundled up, he took her hand and ran outside. She laughed behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

Christmas morning was clear and cold, and Stephanie woke early. Stretching languidly, she reached for Sportacus, only to find he wasn't in the bed. She sat up, sniffing the air, and slipped on her robe as she walked to the kitchen. He was standing at the stove and glanced at her as she watched from the doorway.

"Good morning, Stephanie." He flicked his wrist and a pancake arced up, hung in the air a split second, then sailed back into the waiting pan. "I was hoping you'd sleep until everything was ready."

He'd already set out a tray, laden with fresh fruit and juice, a plate waiting for her pancakes.

"Breakfast in bed? That was very sweet of you."

He slid the pancakes onto her plate, stopping in front of her. He grinned, kissed her, and returned to the stove without a word. She looked at him, confused, and he jerked his head towards the ceiling.

She looked up. _Mistletoe_. Her eyes met his and she smiled. "I walked into that one, didn't I?"

He winked, then asked, "Did you still want to eat in bed, or…?"

"Since you went to all this trouble, I'll be in the bed."

She sidled away, content to wait for him in the other room. When he appeared, the tray nearly groaning with the weight of their meals, she scooted over to make room for him in the bed. She held the tray while he climbed in beside her, then sat it between them and reached for the syrup. She ate with her fingers, as he'd forgotten the flatware and she didn't want him to get out of bed for it, and dared to smear the sticky stuff across his mouth. He'd recoiled in horror, then swiped it down her nose. They'd laughed and fallen into a kiss, only to realize—when it grew more passionate—that they'd gotten it in one another's hair.

After showering together, an experience Stephanie wanted to repeat _very_ soon, they wandered to the living room. Sportacus stretched out in the floor, watching her in the filtered light. She was on her knees at the Christmas tree, and holding his present when she turned around.

"Open it now, please?"

He took the box from her, pulling the ribbon free before lifting the lid.

Inside, surrounded by blue tissue, was a small figure. It was a gleaming white, and stood with its arms outstretched, one leg extended behind. Resting in his hand, it seemed as if it were caught mid-movement, and would suddenly spring away if he didn't hold it fast. He looked at it curiously.

"It reminded me of you…the artist said it's supposed to be Mercury—but it said 'Sportacus' to me." She was looking at it in his hand, smiling at him. "I know it's a little odd…but I hope you like it."

"It is a wonderful gift, Stephanie. Thank you." He placed it back into the box, safely within the tissue. "I wish I had a gift for you."

"Your being here is gift enough." She raised a hand, halting his protest. "I'm serious. You have no idea how happy you make me." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Do you mind if I go ahead and call my parents?"

"Of course not."

"Thanks, Sportacus. I won't be long."

He listened to her absently, a long string of pleasantries exchanged between members of a family. It wasn't difficult to tell the difference in her voice when the mayor came on the line, as she was smiling and trying not to laugh at whatever he'd said. He occupied himself by rolling over and doing push-ups, counting quietly in the still room.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, every ripple of flexing muscles a distraction. Her fingers tingled.

"…Sportacus?"

She shook her head, clearing the fuzz. "What?" Her uncle was still talking.

"How is Sportacus?"

Stephanie's heart leapt into her throat. "Uncle Milford—you didn't—you didn't tell Mom and Dad he's here, did you?"

"Oh, no, no, Stephanie. They're in the kitchen, checking the turkey. I wouldn't dare mention Sportacus to them…what?...oh, nothing—I was…telling Stephanie some news from home."

She closed her eyes, fervently wishing—from so many miles away—that her parents would believe him. "Uncle Milford—please, _please_ be careful. I'd rather Mom and Dad didn't know…at least until I can tell them myself."

Sportacus was listening intently, now.

"Tell them what, Stephanie?" She could hear the curiosity—and something else?—in her uncle's voice.

She looked at Sportacus. He was sitting cross-legged, his eyes revealing nothing. She hesitated before answering, looking for something in Sportacus' gaze.

He suspected what was being asked on the other end of the line, and felt strongly he knew why. His eyes softened.

Stephanie saw the change in him, and swallowed once before answering her uncle. "Sportacus and I…we're not just friends, anymore."

"Hmmm? Oh, really? How nice."

She was surprised at the reaction, and looked strangely at the phone before speaking again. "Uncle Milford, are you okay?"

"Fine, Stephanie, just fine."

"Mom and Dad are in the room, aren't they?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, they are."

"Uncle Milford—about Sportacus…and me—are you okay?"

"It's wonderful, just what I hoped for!"

She paused, clearly taken aback. "Are you…answering me?"

"Yes, dear girl, of course."

"You were—_hoping_? You _wanted_ this?"

"Mmmm-hmmm. Yes."

Stephanie was dumbfounded. "Did Sportacus know?"

"Oh, no. Not at all."

"Uncle Milford…" She sighed. "I don't know what to say."

"Are you happy, Stephanie?" His voice was soft.

"Well—yes."

"Merry Christmas, then, dear girl."

"Merry Christmas, Uncle."

He disconnected.

~*~*~*~

Far away, in a festively-decorated house, Uncle Milford placed the telephone receiver back in its cradle.

"What was that about, Milford-dear?" His sister was looking at him, curiosity written all over her face.

"Oh, you know how Stephanie is. She wanted to know if I liked my present." He fingered his new watch fob. "I've been needing one for quite some time. She also wanted to know if I thought you liked your presents." He laughed. "She worries too much."

Satisfied with his response, his sister turned back to her husband. "I wonder where she gets it from…" She nudged him with her elbow.

The three of them laughed.

~*~*~*~

Stephanie remained motionless for a time, staring into nothingness. Finally, she turned and spoke. "Uncle Milford sent you here on purpose. He _wanted_ this"—she waved a hand between them—"to happen."

"Does that bother you?" His voice was even.

Stephanie flinched. "Wh—no! I'm just…surprised." She shook her head. "Frankly, I'm stunned. This is _Uncle Milford_ we're talking about. He's not exactly Casanova."

Sportacus smiled at her. "A man doesn't have to be Casanova to help others find happiness with one another."

"Point taken." She sighed, rising from her seat and joining him in the floor. "But you have to admit—it's weird. Why would he—what would make him…" She shook her head. "I just don't understand."

Sportacus took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "When your uncle suggested I come here, he said some other things."

"Like what?"

He paused, then looked into her eyes. "That he thinks I am happier when you are around. And he said you 'adore' me."

She blushed.

"I think, Stephanie, that he has your best interests at heart. He wanted me to check on you, make sure you are happy. He worries about you…" He kissed her knuckles. "And I think, somehow, he decided that if I was unhappy without you…and you were unhappy here…then perhaps, if he could somehow get us together, we would be happy again."

She quirked a smile. "He was right."

Sportacus tugged gently on her arm, pulling her to his chest and burying his face in her hair. "I have never been more happy, Stephanie, than when I am with you."

~*~*~*~


	8. Chapter 8

Stephanie was loath to discard the tree, but Sportacus had declared it a hazard after only a few days.

"It's too dry, Stephanie," he'd told her, "and dangerous."

So she was watching him carry it out the door and to the road. Sanitation crews would come by in another day to pick it up, and it would be fed into a wood chipper and sold as mulch.

"That was _our_ tree, Sportacus."

He looked at her from the bottom step of her porch. "I know—but there will be others."

"At least I have pictures."

He kissed her forehead.

~*~*~*~

"That was Maddy on the phone. She's invited us to her place tonight." Stephanie peeked around the corner, watching Sportacus towel himself off. "Would you mind going—just for a little while?"

He wrapped the towel around his waist. "Not at all. I like Maddy—she's a nice person."

"She likes you, too." Stephanie grinned. "I'll call her back, let her know we'll come by." Her head disappeared around the doorframe.

"Stephanie?"

She reappeared. "Yes?"

"We can stay until midnight, if you want."

"No." She smiled warmly at him. "We already have New Year's Eve plans. I'm not changing them, not even for Maddy. I'll tell her we'll come by for a little while, but we're not staying late." She vanished again.

~*~*~*~

"Stephanie, how do you get so _lucky_?"

Maddy was whispering in her ear, admiring Sportacus from across the room. He certainly cut an attractive figure—boots, dark jeans, a shirt the same blue as his suit, and his hair loose. He'd worn the hat on the way over, but Stephanie had pulled it off his head and stuffed it into his coat pocket, murmuring how nice he looked with it on or off.

"I don't know, Maddy."

Her heart danced. Sportacus was talking to some men, Chris was one of them, but his eyes kept meeting hers, and a slow smile would spread across his lips. Inevitably, one of the guys would nudge him, and they would laugh.

"You'd better be good to him."

Stephanie, incredulous, looked at her friend. "What makes you think I'm not?"

"Nothing. I'm just saying, is all." Maddy rolled her eyes. "Stephanie, he's completely besotted with you. _Everyone_ can see it. Just…be good to him, okay?"

"Oh, Maddy…I want to be good to him forever."

Maddy's piercing gaze turned on her, and she grinned like the cat that ate the canary. "So…almost naked or full naked?"

Stephanie colored.

"Oooh, must be full naked."

"Hush, Maddy!"

"Oh, god—full naked duo?"

Stephanie shook her head. "Where do you _get_ this stuff?"

"It's whatever rolls out of my head, Stephanie, you know I can't help it. Am I right? You've seen him naked. You've been naked _with_ him."

Stephanie sighed.

"Well, that's all the confirmation I needed." Maddy sipped her drink. "Times like this remind me of the _nekkid_ joke."

"Naked joke?"

"No, not _naked_. Nekkid. N-e-k-k-i-d. Nekkid."

"Okay, so what's the _nekkid_ joke?"

"Naked is when you don't have on any clothes. _Nekkid_ is when you don't have on any clothes, and you're up to something." She pointed a finger at Stephanie. "You, my pink-haired friend, have been _nekkid_ with that man."

"Maddy—"

"Wait. I'm not trying to give you grief, I'm just having a little fun." She wrapped Stephanie in a hug. "I'm happy for you, Steph, really. You deserve a great guy, and he looks like one."

"He is, Maddy."

They watched him a few more minutes.

"Is he great, or is he _great_?"

"Maddy!"

"Come on, tell me."

"Fine," she hissed, "he's great. He's beyond great. He's…oh, he's amazing."

"You're a goner."

Stephanie laughed. At the sound, Sportacus turned to see what she was doing. Their eyes met again.

"Maddy…you have no idea."

~*~*~*~

"Dude, can you stop staring for even a minute?" Chris slapped his shoulder. "She's not going anywhere."

Sportacus dragged his eyes from her. "I am sorry."

One of the other men spoke. "You love her, don't you, man?"

"More than life itself." He dared another look at her, laughing with her friend, earrings glittering in the lights of the room with each movement. "If I had known how sweet, how wonderful, it would be…I would have found courage to tell her years ago."

The circle of men around him fell silent. Chris coughed lightly, then said, "Normally, I'd give a guy hell for talking like that." He looked at Sportacus again. "But you…I don't know. Has it really been _years_? I thought she grew up with you."

"She did. I've known her since she was a little girl. She was…the best friend I had, and I saw her as nothing else until the summer before she left home."

"What happened, then?" Another voice.

"We worked together—a sports camp in our town. Every day, we were…we grew closer, and I…I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't tell her—she was leaving to start her life…how could I?"

"So, it's been over, what—four years? Damn." Chris, again. "I'd have moved on a long time ago."

One of the others glared at Chris. "That's because you're a punk that can't appreciate what he has."

"What?"

"You heard me, Chris. Maddy loves you, you ass. The _last_ damn thing I'd do is let her think I didn't give a shit if she looked at other guys."

Sportacus was taken aback, watching the exchange.

"And what the hell do you know about me and Maddy?"

"Enough to know that you're screwing up."

"Piss off, man."

Sportacus interrupted. "Perhaps this is not the best time to have this discussion."

Chris held up a hand. "No, I think it is. Come on, Drew. Tell me what you _really_ think."

"Forget it, man."

"No—you brought it up."

"You stupid little… Fine—you want to know what I think? I think you ought to take a page from Sportacus—he loves her. He shows it. Look at his girl…" Drew pointed across the room. "She can't stop looking at him. Practically worships the ground he walks on. If he wanted to leave this party right _now_, I'd put down money on her not even balking. That is not a girl who talks trash about her man to her friends. She doesn't have to—she doesn't have to hide anything, either, or pretend it's all good."

Chris was incensed. "You don't know shit."

"How do you know? You asked her lately?"

Chris pushed through the group, storming away.

Sportacus looked at Drew apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for him. He knows I'm right. That's what pisses him off." He shrugged. "He's been with Maddy for three years, and still acts like it's casual. He doesn't deserve her."

Stephanie caught Sportacus' gaze, her face questioning.

He shook his head. _Later_.

He watched her turn back to Maddy, saying something to her, then they hugged. Stephanie left her friend and crossed the room to him. The men parted to let her pass.

"Sorry, guys—I don't mean to interrupt. Sportacus…are you ready to go?"

He nodded. "Whenever you like."

"Well, it's just past eleven…"

He considered a thought. "Yes, we should go." Turning back to the group, he said, "I am sorry—we have somewhere to be before midnight. I do hope to see you again, soon." He took Stephanie's hand and they left the party, calls of "drive safe" and "see you around" following them out the door.

In the Jeep, Stephanie buckled in and started the engine. "The drive should take about twenty minutes from here. Is that okay?"

He smiled. "It's more than enough."

She pulled out of Maddy's drive, turning on the road to Happy Valley. They talked quietly along the way, and though Stephanie wanted very much to ask what had happened at the party, she didn't want to pry. Sportacus would tell her sometime—there was no need to push. She could ask tomorrow—it could wait until then. Besides, there were other things to think about, happier things.

She smiled.

~*~*~*~

They arrived at the airstrip a little more than twenty minutes later. Stephanie parked in the hangar, locking the doors behind them when they got out. Sportacus led her down the grass landing strip, their hands clasped as they walked. His airship was tethered at the far end, and floated dreamily in the nighttime sky. When they were standing underneath it, he called for the ladder; the hatch opened, the rope ladder tumbling towards them. He squeezed her hand. "You go up first."

She wrapped her hands around the first rung and began climbing. He followed close behind her, looking up to watch her progress. She moved swiftly and confidently, reassuring him of her safety. As they climbed, his eyes glanced to her again, noticing the curve of her bottom through the snug denim she wore.

His heart tightened, and he drew a sharp breath, forcing himself to focus his attention elsewhere. She had reached the top, reaching for the platform support, and when she stepped onto it, he jumped on beside her. The platform receded into the ship, and they were standing in near-total darkness, except for moonlight through the windows on the bow.

Surprisingly, he did not call for lights, but instead leapt into the pilot's seat. Pressing a button, the tether released and he guided the ship higher into the atmosphere. She knelt on the floor beside him, looking out at the dark sky. He said nothing, steering them unerringly to a destination she did not know. After a short while, she checked her watch. Ten minutes to go.

She began to grow concerned. "Sportacus…how close are we?"

He leaned up, looking at the ground ahead. "Almost there." He pedaled another few minutes, and finally stopped, hopping out of the seat and making sure they held their position.

"Time?"

The ship's system responded, "Eleven fifty-three."

"Perfect."

He took her by the elbow and left her to the windows. Standing this close, she felt as if she were standing on a cliff, or a cloud. The world was at her feet, the lights from homes and towns glowing below. The sky was near-cloudless, excepting a few distant wisps over distant mountain ridges. The moon hung high above, a fat crescent of white among a scattering a stars.

For a brief moment, she felt disconnected from herself…her mind felt as if it were stretching, trying to wrap itself around something too large for her to comprehend.

She swayed toward the glass and he grabbed her, pulling her back.

"Are you okay, Stephanie?"

She heard the worry in his voice, and nodded slowly. "Yes…I'm fine. I don't know what happened. It felt…it felt like I was…I don't know."

"Sit." He held her hands as she sank to the floor, sliding in behind her and resting his hands on her waist. "I should've warned you—the vertigo can be overwhelming if you are not accustomed to great heights." He rubbed her arms, smiling into her shoulder. "Look out there—" He pointed to a cluster of lights directly ahead. "Keep watching."

She nodded.

"Time?" He whispered, and the ship replied again, in softer tones.

"Eleven fifty-nine."

Stephanie felt his breath against her neck, and warmth pooled in her belly. She was flying—far above the earth—sitting on the floor of a ship, wrapped in the warmth of a man she couldn't begin to describe in words…

Something exploded—a dulled sound, and trickling bursts of light rained down below them.

She gasped. "_Fireworks_?"

He kissed her hair. "Yes."

The air below them was filled with glittering colors—geysers and spirals and pinwheels appearing in turn. She looked away, spotting more arcing above another valley. "Look!"

Sportacus chuckled behind her, then pointed in another direction. "There, too."

Her eyes darted across the landscape, exclaiming delightedly at each burst. He held her, watching her more than acknowledging the display at their feet. Her skin glowed in the moonlight, pale and satin, and her hair was soft under his fingers.

Sportacus loved every inch of her, and his heart swelled at having her here, in his ship. He'd held secret hopes—hopes long buried away, for fear others would see them—that someday she would be with him, above the world…and he would show her all the things he'd thought she would find beautiful.

The brilliant explosions ended, save a few stray sparkles here and there. Not long after, they also ceased, and darkness and silence crept back over the land. Stephanie didn't move, eyes on the lights far below.

"Do you want to go back?" His voice was soft in her ear.

She shook her head. "No…can we stay—please? Just for tonight?"

He turned her in his arms, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "Of course."

He stood, extending his hand to her. She grasped it, pulling herself up and looking around.

"Bed." At his single-word command, a wall panel rotated in place and lowered into position.

She grinned. "That's convenient."

He smiled back at her. "It's…smaller than—well, what we're used to, but I think we can manage."

She went to him, sliding one hand up his arm and resting it over his heart. "I don't mind getting close."

They shed their clothing slowly, gazes lingering on each bit of exposed flesh, until they were naked and exposed to the cool air of the ship's cabin. He drew her to him, tucking her head beneath his chin, stroking his large, warm hands down her back.

"Come to bed." His chest rumbled beneath her ear.

She permitted him to lead her to the narrow bed, nestling against him as he pulled her close under the duvet. His scent was everywhere, and she breathed it deeply…

They slept.

~*~*~*~

They left early the next morning, the sun low on the horizon. After tethering the airship back to its mooring, they'd walked silently back to the hangar. Stephanie idled the Jeep, waiting for the heater to begin blowing out hot air before pulling out and going back to the main road.

Driving in the cold morning light, Stephanie glanced over at Sportacus, a recollection of something from the night before coming to mind. "Sportacus…what happened with Chris? Why was he angry?"

He didn't look at her, staring at the serpentine road ahead of them. "One of his friends—a man named Drew—was comparing his relationship with Maddy to us."

"To _us_? Why?"

He sighed. "He was telling Chris he should treat Maddy better—show her he loves her, not take her for granted."

She was surprised. "But—Maddy always says things are fine. Why would she lie?"

Sportacus looked at her, his eyes guarded. "Perhaps things are _fine_, but not what they could be. You know that as well as anyone."

"Poor Maddy."

He reached over, squeezing her hand before bringing it to his lips. "Not everyone is so fortunate as we, Stephanie."

She blushed, reclaiming her hand as she slowed for a sharp curve. "No…no, they're not—but I can hope Maddy gets what she deserves."

"Whatever that might be?"

It was her turn to sigh. "Whatever that might be."

~*~*~*~


	9. Chapter 9

Classes started again a few days later, and Stephanie was reviewing a list of needed texts. She looked across the room at Sportacus. "I need to go to the bookstore."

"Did you want me to come with you?" He was stretching.

"No—I'll be fine, You go ahead on your run. I won't be long."

He nodded, waiting for her to get her things and left with her. She kissed him at the sidewalk, and they parted, heading in opposite directions. Stephanie walked through the slush of melting snow, checking her list to be sure no book was left off, then checked her bag to make sure she had money with her. She turned around, walking backwards to catch another glimpse of Sportacus, before she was out of sight.

Sportacus was early in his circuit, turning onto Queens Street and evening out his stride. He dodged puddles of water and slush, enjoying the feel of the chilly air against his face. At the end, he turned north on Water Street and picked up speed. He made three loops around the block, turned back on Queens and returned to Stephanie's. As he came up the street, he saw people in the yard.

He slowed, jogging up to the group, and halted in his tracks.

It was Tim, and two other boys Sportacus didn't recognize. They looked at him, Tim's face stormy.

"You're still here."

"Yes."

"Where's Steph?"

"Stephanie is out."

"You smug bastard." Tim's lip curled into a sneer, and he stepped forward. "Let's see how long that lasts." He motioned to his friends, and they came around Sportacus, one on either side.

Sportacus looked between each of them. "Tim, don't do this."

"Not so tough, now? Is Mr Superhero a little _worried_?"

"I won't fight you."

"You don't have a choice."

"Tim—I'm telling you. _Don't do this_. You won't win Stephanie back this way."

Tim's friends grabbed Sportacus' arms and held him. Right up until the first punch, Sportacus hoped against hope that Tim would listen to reason. His instinct was to get free, but he resisted, gritting his teeth against the onslaught.

"Come on, fight me!" Tim was screaming in his face.

Sportacus shook his head. "No."

Tim hesitated. "Why? You think you're better than that? Better than _me_?"

"That's not who I am."

"You won't even _try_. And she thinks you'll save her?"

Sportacus looked up at this, suddenly afraid. "What do you mean, Tim? Save her from what?"

Tim pulled back, swinging his fist and hitting Sportacus across the eye. His head was ringing with pain, and before the next blow, he heard Tim snort and answer him.

"Don't worry, _Sportacus_. I'm not going after her. I'm just going to show her she's wrong about you."

They beat him mercilessly, kicking and punching him until he fell to his knees, upright only because they held him up. Blood was running from his mouth, dripping onto his suit and to the ground, the bright red mingling with the gray slush at their feet. His crystal had been ripped from his vest and tossed away, and his hat had been pulled from his head, spat on and trodden into the ground. He could barely see, and pain shot through him as he breathed. Still, they continued.

"_Sportacus_!" The scream was shrill and horrified. Stephanie had come up the street, and knew immediately something was amiss when she saw people in her yard. At first, she'd not realized what was happening, but as she drew closer, she'd seen a figure slumped between two of the others. The blue suit gave away his identity, and she quickly put together what she was seeing. Breaking into a run, she had screamed his name. As she ran across the yard, her books fell to the ground and she flung herself at Tim, hitting him in the back as hard as she could. He stumbled, and she pushed him to the ground before turning on his companions. They released Sportacus' arms and tried to back away as she charged them, shoving them away with all her strength. She left them, turning back to Sportacus. She fell to her knees—he was barely holding himself up, blood and spit running down his face.

"Sportacus…oh, god."

He raised his head, an ugly bruise already forming around his eye. "Stephanie…I'm okay…"

"No, you're not—let me see you." She was running her hands over his chest, pressing in along his ribs.

He grunted in pain.

"If your rib isn't broken, it's badly bruised. Oh, Sportacus—what happened?"

"I came to teach pretty boy a lesson." Tim was standing, wiping snow and mud from his face and clothes.

Stephanie felt rage bubbling up inside her, and she sprang to her feet. "You monster! You beat him—you could've _killed_ him!" She rushed him, shoving him again. "Get out of here! I _never_ want to see you again, ever!" She turned her back on him.

Tim reached for her, grabbing her coat and spinning her around. She snatched herself free of his grip and reacted instantly, the high-kick of her dancing years returning as a defense—she caught Tim under his chin, a sickening crack reached her ears, and he stumbled back, blood pouring from his mouth. She stared, jittery from adrenaline, and turned again to Sportacus.

Tim cursed, blinded with pain, and lunged for her. He shoved her once, hard—when she fell, he flipped her over in the muck and drew back his fist.

Sportacus' crystal blazed from across the yard, the gleaming prism of light shining more brightly than he'd ever remembered. In his haze, he saw Stephanie fall, Tim standing over her, arm poised to strike.

Strength flooded into him and he lurched to his feet, crossing the yard and colliding with Tim. His hand closed around the younger man's throat, and he pushed him against a tree, lifting him from the ground. He panted, pain radiating from his side. Tim was sputtering, his blood running down Sportacus' arm.

Sportacus looked to where Stephanie lay. Something dark and violent roared within him, and his fingers tightened. Tim's eyes widened, his breath grew ragged, and his hands came up, pulling desperately at Sportacus' grip. Sportacus turned burning eyes on his, and spoke. "I asked you not to do this. I told you, do you remember? 'Don't make me that man'—I warned you."

Stephanie coughed, pushing herself off the ground. Her gaze turned to where Sportacus stood, Tim dangling a couple of feet above the ground, held up only by his neck. She saw him struggling to breathe, knew something was wrong with Sportacus. She called out to him, coming to his side and touching his arm. "Let him go—he's not worth it."

Sportacus turned at the sound of her voice, meeting her gaze. He didn't move.

She pulled on his arm. "Please. He's not worth losing you."

He nodded, loosening his grip and lowering Tim to the ground.

The boy lay there, gasping for breath. "You sick f—"

"_Tim_!" Stephanie's voice was sharp, and both men looked at her. "Don't. Just—_don't_. Get out of here. If you go now…" She shook her head. "Just leave. Don't come near me again."

He glared at her, then heaved himself from the ground and stumbled away. Once out of sight, Stephanie grabbed Sportacus' arm and led him to the house.

"My crystal…" He pointed.

"I'll find it, I promise, but let me take care of _you_ first."

He nodded, allowing her to guide him to the bathroom. She pulled his shirt off as gently as she could manage, cringing at every hiss and grunt he made at the movement. Already, bruises were blooming along his sides, and she dreaded seeing any other damage he might have suffered.

Stephanie turned on the taps, running a warm bath as he attempted to remove his shoes. "Here, let me." She knelt, pulling the shoes off and helping him to his feet. She unfastened his trousers, sliding them over his hips and down his thighs. He was bruised there, too, and her eyes welled up. "Oh, Sportacus…"

His fingers laced into her hair, lifting her face. "Stephanie—I will heal. Do not worry."

"I can't believe they did this to you."

"There are worse people in the world."

"I know…you told me." She tried to smile. "And you still came to my rescue."

He started to laugh, but grimaced. "You did well for yourself—I am impressed. I hardly think you needed rescuing."

She was fidgeting with his trousers, folding them, tugging at the creases. "Sportacus…"

"Yes. Yes, I would have."

She looked up, startled. "How did you know?"

"I can't imagine you'd want to know anything else."

"I've never seen you like that."

He sighed. "I would have preferred you had never witnessed it."

"Why—what drove you to it?"

His eyes softened. "Stephanie…you have to ask?"

She looked at him, blood streaked on his face, his eye swollen and purple. "No, I don't." She reached up and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I love you, too." Stephanie helped him into the bath, letting him slide down into the water, the warmth already easing his aches. "I'll be back—I'm going to find your crystal."

He nodded, and she slipped out the door, taking his clothes with her. She dumped them into the kitchen sink as she passed through the house, filling it with cold water in hopes of keeping the blood from staining. She left the house, gathering up her books and finding his hat almost immediately, but the crystal took much longer than she liked—even knowing where he said it would be. Returning to the house, she went back to the sink, finding the water pink with blood.

At the sight, she froze, her eyes burning with tears as she pulled the drain and refilled the sink with clean water. Dropping in the hat, she walked away to check on Sportacus.

~*~*~*~

She'd washed him, sponging his face clean, gently scrubbing off the blood and muck. When she'd finished, she helped him out of the bathtub and toweled him dry, leading him to her bedroom. He'd gingerly slid into her bed, nude, sighing as he rested on the softness.

Stephanie kissed him again, pulling the blankets over him and shutting off the light. He was asleep quickly, and she left the room.

She scrubbed his clothes until her fingertips were raw, but when she finished, not one drop of blood remained.

~*~*~*~

He'd ached terribly the next morning, and Stephanie hastened to the medicine cabinet for something to help him, returning quickly with a glass of water and two pills.

Sportacus looked at the tablets, bleary-eyed. "What are those?"

"A mild pain reliever—nothing too strong. Here, take them." She held them out in her fingertips, and he obediently opened his mouth for her to drop them in. Washing them down with water, he settled back into the bed.

Stephanie was staring at him. "Can I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Why did you let them hurt you? You could've thrown them off, or run away, even—but you didn't. Why?"

He'd expected this question, just as he'd expected the one she'd posed the night before. "It's not how I feel things should be done. I—just as those that came before me—try to stop people from being hurt…not _cause_ harm."

"But they were _beating_ you…this isn't a kitten in a tree, Sportacus—they could've _killed_ you."

"They didn't."

She sighed, turning away from his gaze. For a few moments, neither one spoke. Finally, Stephanie looked over at him, again. "Don't do it again, okay? If we're…together…don't be so cavalier about your own well-being. I can't deal with that."

"Stephanie, I'm not being cavalier—"

"Just promise you'll take care of yourself. I'm not asking you to hunt them down—I'm asking you to defend yourself. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"You promise?"

He hesitated, looking into her eyes. He recognized the concern, the worry…the love…and he nodded. "I promise."

"Good." She leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Now, you rest. I'm going to get your breakfast and then I'm off to class."

He'd lain there a few moments before drifting back to sleep.

~*~*~*~

He opened his eyes, blinking to clear the haze, and looked around. There was a slip of pink paper on the table by the bed:

_Sportacus—_

_I didn't have the heart to wake you, so your breakfast is waiting in the refrigerator. I've put the medicine on the counter—you need to take more around eleven o'clock. I'll be back before lunchtime. See you soon._

_Love,_

_Stephanie_

She'd drawn a series of Xs and Os beneath her name, and he smiled at them. Putting her note aside, he grunted as he sat up, easing himself out of the bed and dressing slowly, finally making his way to the kitchen. He got his food out and warmed it, deciding to take the medicine later. After his meal, he finally took the next dose and stretched out along the couch. He ached, not as badly, and dozed off.

Stephanie arrived home just after noon, breathless and unsmiling. She dropped her bags by the door and crossed to where Sportacus lay. Crouching in the floor beside him, she leaned close and breathed in his scent. Pressing her lips to his cheek, she shook him lightly, waking him.

"Stephanie—" He tried to sit up, but she held him back with a hand on his chest.

"Lie still, I'm fine." She held up an envelope. "Uncle Milford sent you a letter."

Their eyes met, both suspecting the worst.

He took the letter from her and pushed himself upright, despite her protests. She remained at his feet, nervously picking at her nails. He scanned the letter quickly, his shoulders slumping. It was the only confirmation she required.

"When did he come back?"

Sportacus didn't bother feigning ignorance. "Three days ago."

"Why didn't Uncle Milford call, I wonder?"

Sportacus sighed. "He wanted to delay the inevitable as much as possible." Holding out the letter, he indicated a postscript at the bottom. Just as he'd said, the mayor had noted his wish to let them have as much time together as he could manage.

"Oh, Uncle Milford…" Stephanie felt a rush a warmth for her uncle.

"I'll need to go as soon as possible, Stephanie."

Her eyes met his, again. "I know. I don't want you to go—ever—but it's amazing we had this long, really."

"I don't want to leave you."

She crept closer, her hands resting on his thighs. "I wish I could go back with you."

He kissed her forehead. "It's going to be very difficult to be apart."

"We'll write letters."

He smiled. "Every day. Sometimes twice."

She grinned back at him. "I think I can handle that."

~*~*~*~


	10. Chapter 10

She'd called her uncle shortly after reading the letter, telling him Sportacus would be leaving in two days' time. She'd already begun packing for him, searching each room for his things. He'd been with her so long, he'd become ingrained in her life _and_ in her home.

Sportacus' bruises were spectacular, and she dreaded the call she knew would come when he reached Lazytown. She'd said nothing to her uncle of what had happened with Tim—knew of no reasonable excuse Sportacus could use to explain away the damage. Fortunately, the injury to his ribs hadn't been as severe as she'd originally thought, and the pain had lessened to a dull throb. Sportacus had assured her he would be fine in only a few more days.

Stephanie tried not to think about his departure—looking at him, seeing him black and blue, and knowing this would be her image of him until they met again in several months—it broke her heart. She swiped at a tear and sat down heavily on her bed. How she would miss their conversations—the intimacy of their whispers as they lay together, the laughing and teasing, the way he listened to her discussions of her studies…every moment they had with one another.

A thought grabbed her, and she impulsively jerked open a drawer by her bed. Nestled under books and cards, she uncovered a blue box. She took it out and opened it, removing a bundle of letters. She held them a moment, considering their history. She _had_ written to him—not every day as she'd promised, and only sometimes twice—these were the letters she couldn't bear to mail, letters that hinted at or revealed things she'd not been ready to share.

Perhaps now?

She went to her desk, reached into a cubby and pulled out the pen he'd given her on that long-ago evening. It was, surprisingly, not pink—silver, instead, and chased with a floral motif; a vine of tiny buds changing to full blooms. It rested heavily in her hand, its delicacy belying its heft. It wrote smoothly, fitted her hand perfectly…and she only ever used it when writing him.

Today, she pulled out another sheet of the fine, pale blue paper he'd given her with the pen. Her hand paused in midair, then the pen came down and she began to write.

~*~*~*~

The final night of his stay was a struggle for her. She felt ready to burst into tears, her heart pained with knowing he would be leaving in a few short hours. After they'd eaten, she'd gotten ready for bed and crawled in beside him, eagerly sliding her body close to his and inhaling his scent. Warmth radiated from him, and she allowed her fingers to graze his chest. Neither of them was tired, though he _would_ be rising early, yet neither would surrender the pretense of needing rest for the day ahead.

Sportacus could feel her despair, and wanted nothing more to take away her pain. Doing so, however, was impossible. Lazytown was his responsibility—and Stephanie _would_ be home soon. He exhaled in the darkness, considering further a thought he'd been trying to ignore for several days.

He pulled her closer, his fingers splaying against her back and moving to grasp her hip. Her touch was light, nearly infuriating, as it ghosted across his skin. He moved quickly, rolling them in the bed until he was over her, comfortably nestled between her thighs.

"Stephanie…please let me love you."

She couldn't speak, and the hand he reached out met her cheek, feeling her nod.

They moved slowly, deliberately in counterpoint to the urgency created by lack of time. He entered her gently—her eyes fell shut, she sighed in pleasure…his lips went to her throat and tasted her—the faint saltiness of her sweat, a lingering hint of perfume…she was hot around him, and his heart tightened with more than desire—he loved her, wanted her always…she broke under him, her cry caught in his mouth, and as he followed her, he bit back the words ringing in his head.

She curled into him, clinging to his shoulders and pressing kisses to all the skin within her reach. They lay together, light touches and soft words exchanged until sleep finally pulled them under.

~*~*~*~

Stephanie waited under the airship, the ladder dangling in front of her a temptation in itself. Sportacus had already taken his belongings aboard, insisting she wait below. After a scant few minutes, he dropped to the ground and met her eyes.

"So…this is it." She hated the words as soon as she spoke them.

His gaze never left hers. "Only for a little while, Stephanie."

"I know. Four months."

"And I'll come back when you graduate."

"I wish it could be sooner."

He smiled at her. "So do I."

They regarded one another, neither one knowing how to say goodbye. Finally, she tore her eyes from his, fumbling in her purse for something. He watched as she pulled out a tightly-packed stack of envelopes, and was surprised when she offered the bundle to him.

"Take these with you." He accepted them, looking to her for an explanation. "They're letters…to you. I'd written them, but…I never sent them."

"Stephanie—why?"

"I thought they were silly. There are things in there that…I can't explain it. Please—just read them."

He stared into her eyes a long time. "I'll read them, I promise."

She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck before kissing him fiercely. "I love you—you know that, right?"

"Yes—and I love you. Remember, Stephanie…it's only four months, and I'll be back for you."

She smiled at that, eyes bright. "I'll be waiting."

He pulled away, then, climbing the ladder and watching her return to her Jeep. When the ship was freed from its mooring, he guided it into the sky, following Stephanie along the road until she turned toward her home—then he looked away and took the ship above the clouds.

~*~*~*~

_Dear Sportacus—_

_I'm on the train; we're only an hour from the station. My mind's a jumble, and I can't think straight. I came to the dining car to clear my head, but the steward brought me an apple as a snack, and now I'm thinking about you all over again. I'm never going to mail this, I can tell that much already._

He was pedaling absently, the letter on his lap the center of his attention.

_I don't know what to think—you kissed me, Sportacus. Just looking at those words makes me tingle. I know it wasn't a __real__ kiss, but…I'm so confused. I think about how you looked at me, and my heart just starts pounding. What did it mean? Why did you do it? And why __then__?_

_We were together all summer…and there were times you, I don't know, you just looked at me, but your eyes—they were so different. Everything started feeling different, even talking to you. I know what Trixie would say, if I told her…but I just can't imagine it being true._

_I can't—I can't think like that. You're Sportacus…you don't…well, you just don't. You can't. I'm sure you can't. Can you?_

_This is ridiculous. I can't believe I'm sitting here writing a letter I'm nev_

The letter ended there, mid-word. He felt cold, almost disappointed. She'd gone away confused by him, wondering why he'd come to her, but believing he could never…never what? Love her? Fall _in_ love with her?

He reached for the next letter and came up with a crumpled and wrinkled page dated two weeks after her departure. Looking for the beginning, he realized what was wrong—she'd taken this page from a thick letter she'd sent him very early on…the rest of it was stored carefully in a box behind one of the ship's panels.

_because she and Stingy will never get along, but I disagree. They fight too much to __not__ like each other—if she really disliked him, she'd never go near him, right?_

_It really is silly, how boys and girls act around one another. Why can't they just admit they like each other? Why do they pretend—why fight? Can you imagine __us__ fighting? We're friends, I mean—not that I like you. I do like you, but not like that. I'm not saying you're not likable that way…I'm getting this all wrong._

She'd scratched some lines on the paper, clearly already realizing this page was a loss. There was a final bit of print at the bottom, and his breath caught in his throat when he read it:

_Sportacus—part of me wishes…I wish you were here. I wish you had kissed me, __really__ kissed me. At least I wouldn't feel so stupid for thinking about it so much._

"Oh, Stephanie…I wish I had, too," he whispered to the page, regrets washing over him again. Glancing out the window before him, he turned back to the letters at his elbow. He dreaded reading them, for he knew eventually would come those after she met Tim, when she'd surrendered any secret dreams and gone off on her own to make a future she thought she _could_ have.

He cursed his cowardice around her. He, the slightly-above-average hero—the man she'd turned to for guidance for so long, the one she'd gone to for encouragement—too shameful to admit devotion. He put aside the page and reached for another, this one dated after Halloween, and remembered having gone several weeks before receiving another thick envelope from her, full of news about her classes and tests and new friends. Wondering briefly what she might have removed from it, he scanned the looping handwriting—

_I went with friends to a Halloween festival last night—some campus groups organized it and set everything up in the park. There was a haunted house, carnival games, and this tube you could walk through—it was painted in spirals that glowed under blacklights, and the whole thing turned as we walked through on a catwalk. It made me so dizzy! I stumbled, but Colleen caught me and we fell out the end, laughing._

_Before you ask…yes, I went in costume. It was short-notice, so I didn't have anything, but Colleen helped me—oh, you're going to laugh—I was a cotton swab. I'm not kidding! Colleen wrapped me head-to-toe in toilet paper, glued cotton balls to a shower cap for my head, and covered my feet in that polyfill stuffing…stuff. She went as a ghost—by literally covering herself in a sheet and writing "GHOST" on it in black marker. Everyone on our floor laughed when we left, but I had so much fun._

_We saw a lot of great costumes—I saw a pirate (remember when Robbie tricked us into thinking he was Captain Rottenbeard?), a couple dressed as Tweedledee and Tweedledum, and several clowns and fairies that were done very well._

_I actually thought I saw __you__, once. We were walking past the haunted house and I saw someone dressed all in blue going in. I shouted at him and followed him inside, and got almost all the way through before I caught up to him. I don't know why I thought you'd be here—or why you'd show up and not come find me—but I was so disappointed when he turned around. I didn't even ask him for his name._

_Colleen wants to know why I chased him…she asked me again a few minutes ago. I don't know what to tell her. When I thought it was you, I was_

Sportacus turned the page over, his heart in his throat, and found the page blank. He exhaled heavily, smiling at himself and the rush of excitement he'd felt at her words.

He refolded the page, tucking it back into the stack with the others before setting them all aside. They all would be read, but not today—for now, he wanted to think pleasantly of the bright-haired young woman he'd left behind…her soft skin, warm breath, and her openness.

His heart swelled.

~*~*~*~

When Sportacus arrived in Lazytown, he made every effort to delay meeting the mayor, but it was unavoidable. When he walked into Town Hall, Miss Busybody gasped, openly staring at the bruise around his eye.

"Sp—Sportacus! What…your _eye_! What happened?"

He hesitated in responding, and was grateful when Mayor Meanswell appeared, breathlessly cutting in, "Now, now, Miss Busybody—Sportacus just got home, there's no need to question him." He took Sportacus by the arm and led him away, returning to the storeroom. Closing the door behind them, the mayor motioned for him to sit, pouring a cup of coffee for himself. Sitting down at the same table they'd talked over months earlier, Milford poured cream into his cup and began stirring. He spoke without preamble.

"What happened to you, Sportacus?"

Sportacus decided total honestly might not be ideal, but—it _was_ for the best. "Stephanie's former…boyfriend…disliked my presence."

The mayor was visibly taken aback. "He struck you?"

"Yes."

"Was…did he—did he ever—"

"No. He never hurt Stephanie that way."

Sportacus was surprised at the mayor's piercing look.

"But he _did_ hurt her."

"Yes. He'd broken her heart."

"I see." The mayor sipped his coffee. "I understand, too, that you've put it back together, hmm?"

He couldn't help the smile. "Yes."

Mayor Meanswell thumped the table with his fist. "I cannot tell you how happy I am, Sportacus! This is a great day for me." Setting aside his cup, he sat back and patted his tummy, a satisfied smile gracing his features. "This has been a long time in coming."

Sportacus was confused. "I don't understand, Mayor."

Milford looked across the table at him. "Don't you? No?" He chuckled. "I am not so foolish as to not have seen Stephanie's adoration of you. When she was a little girl, she admired you for what you are on the surface—as did her friends. As she grew older, there was a bit of hero-worship that caused me some alarm, but you were always so cautious with all the children, I knew it was no danger. Finally, by her last summer here—" Meanswell paused, taking up his coffee. "I'd noticed something had changed in her…she was quiet, reserved. Stephanie was looking at you differently. That's when I decided to let her help you with the sports camp."

"Why would you encourage it?" Sportacus looked at him strangely, shocked. "Why did you not tell me?"

The mayor's brows furrowed. "Sportacus, be reasonable. If I'd come to you and said, 'Sportacus, did you realize my niece has feelings for you?' And if I'd gone so far as to admit wanting to see those feelings reciprocated?—what would you have done?"

Sportacus said nothing.

"Exactly my point. You'd have distanced yourself from her and never given it a chance. You're far too honorable for your own good, you know."

"Her parents—" Sportacus fumbled for words.

"Stephanie's parents haven't been parenting her, have they? Oh, don't look at me that way—I love my sister, I do, but she and her husband put other things ahead of their daughter." He sighed. "I can't begrudge them that, however…if they hadn't, dear Stephanie would never have come—and I can't bear imagining life in Lazytown without her."

They both fell silent. After a few moments of noisily drinking, Meanswell spoke again. "You do love her, don't you?"

Sportacus' blue eyes seemed to glow. "Yes."

"Good, good. I'm happy to hear it."

The pair remained at the table a while longer, enjoying the silence punctuated by the occasional knock and questioning call from Miss Busybody.

The mayor smiled. "She's going to strangle me for not telling her."

~*~*~*~


	11. Chapter 11

~*~*~*~

Robbie Rotten skulked around his home. Dust covered everything, and as much as he hated it, he couldn't be bothered to actually _clean_ it.

"Go away for a few months, and everything goes to pieces. Hmmph." Even the tubes where his disguises were stored had smears of filth blurring their contents. "How _disgusting_!" His eyes roamed the premises, his brain frantically trying to think of a way to get rid of the mess without lifting a finger—metaphorically _or_ literally.

He fell back into his orange chair, puffs of dust swirling up and around him. He sneezed. "That does it!" Jumping to his feet, he stomped to a closet, yanking open the door, an avalanche of junk tumbling out and around his legs. He screamed in frustration, kicking his way free and storming to his periscope-style spyglass.

Peering into it, he muttered to himself. "…has to be something, a _reason_…"

As if he'd willed it into happening, Sportacus appeared in his view, walking through the park.

Wait—walking? The blue wonder was _walking_?

Robbie tracked him through the viewfinder, watching in curiosity at the more sedate appearance of the local hero. He watched as Sportacus called for the ladder, it tumbled to within his reach, and he began to climb—Robbie took note of a very interesting development.

Sportacus had a black eye.

"Oh ho! Sportakook's been on the wrong end of the wrong person. Who could it be?" He rubbed his palms together in thought. "Well, only one way to find out…it's disguise time!" Hurrying to see his options, he glanced at the dirty tubes. "Awww…" He danced around them, squinting through the muck. Finally, he rubbed at the glass with his sleeves, gagging at the filth on his clothes. The first tube contained a very dapper three-piece suit—"too proper"; the second contained a track suit—"too trotter"; while the third tube contained long bell-bottoms, a vivid purple shirt, and a long wig. "Ah-ha! Peace-loving hippie! _Perfect_!" He raced to the control panel, his fingers flying over the buttons, and—in a whirlwind—his disguise appeared around him. He smoothed out the fabric of his costume and admired himself in the mirror. "Oh, very hip." He propped a pair of small, round-lensed sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and rushed to the exit.

~*~*~*~

Sportacus was stretching, slowly and carefully, making every effort to prevent his injuries from restricting his movement. His arms arched, reaching to heaven, and his bruised ribs protested with a sharp twinge. He stifled a grunt, noting the pain was significantly less than it had been, and brought his arms back to his sides.

He continued a few minutes longer when he was interrupted by his crystal. Glancing down, he remarked, "Someone's in trouble!" He raced to the doorway, stepping out to the platform and looking down at the quiet town below him. Noticing nothing, he pulled out his telescope and peered carefully at the buildings—there—Ziggy, oblivious to the skateboard in his path as he carried packages stacked above his head.

Sportacus sighed, quickly tying off a bungee cord before leaping into space. He was in freefall, the wind rushing past his face, and an image of Stephanie floated into his vision. He smiled, the thrill of screaming down to the ground as exhilarating as being with her.

Almost.

He reached out his arms, grasping the boxes Ziggy held and lifted them. Suddenly seeing the danger in front of him, Ziggy sidestepped, avoiding the skateboard and turned to look up. Sportacus was dangling above him.

"Sportacus—you're back!"

Sportacus twisted against the rope, turning himself upright before touching down lightly. "Yes, since this morning." He held the boxes awkwardly. "Ziggy—what are these?"

"Oh, sorry!" Ziggy grabbed the top half of the stack and grinned. "I'm selling online, now. These are my first shipments."

"Really? That's wonderful, Ziggy!"

"Well, yes…it is, isn't it? I can't tell you how surprised I was that people want homemade taffy. I know taffy is the best candy _ever_, but I didn't know _I_ could sell it." He shrugged. "I'm really glad I looked into making it after I took that tour of the taffy maker's factory…"

"And _I'm_ very glad you try to remind everyone to eat sweets in moderation."

Ziggy colored. "Well, you _did_ spend years reminding _me_." He looked around. "Would you mind helping me get these to the post office?"

"Sure."

They walked in companionable silence until they reached the post office. Once Ziggy had finished with his shipments, he followed Sportacus outside and immediately spoke. "Sportacus…what happened to you? Where have you been?"

It was Sportacus' turn to flush with color, and he hesitated before answering. "I—I was visiting Stephanie."

Ziggy started, then looked at Sportacus curiously. "You…and Stephanie?"

Sportacus nodded. "Yes."

Ziggy looked away, brows knitted in thought. After a tense silence, he smiled. "Makes sense. She was always more like you than she ever was like _us_. Is she happy?"

"I think so, yes." Sportacus laughed.

"Then I'm happy, too. But—what about your eye?"

Sportacus knew he'd eventually be asked, so he didn't avoid the answer. "Someone from Stephanie's past didn't want me around."

"He fought you?" Ziggy was shocked.

"Not really. He wanted to, but I—you know how I feel about fighting, Ziggy."

"Well, if he's that kind of guy, I'm glad Stephanie isn't with him."

"So am I."

Ziggy laughed. "I'd guess not!"

Sportacus shook his head, smiling. "Ziggy, it was great talking to you, but I need to go. See you around?"

"Sure—bye!"

Sportacus darted away, waving goodbye, and trying to ignore the pressure in his side.

~*~*~*~

"Where's the fire, man?"

Sportacus stopped in his tracks, looking around for the source of the voice he'd just heard, finally catching sight of a long-limbed man lying stretched out beneath a tree.

"I'm sorry?"

The man sat up, long hair streaming over his shoulders, tilting his head back and peering at him through dark rose-tinted lenses.

"Just wonderin' where you're runnin' off to in such a hurry. Life's too short to rush around. You gotta be mellow…_let_ things happen."

Sportacus smiled. "I prefer to make them happen—but there is something to be said for allowing life to fall into place."

The man's head cocked to one side. "Speakin' of fallin'—you fall into somethin'?"

Sportacus stiffened, biting his tongue against the frustration he was feeling. "No. It was a…disagreement."

"Musta been a serious disagreement."

"It was."

"Can I ask what was so important?"

Sportacus' eyes narrowed, staring hard at the stranger on the grass at his feet. "A girl—woman."

Robbie almost gave himself away, he was so shocked. 'A _woman_? The elf was _fighting_? Over a _woman_?' He tensed, trying to not show his hand. "Your girl, then?"

Sportacus nodded.

Robbie's excitement grew tenfold. 'This is going to be easier than I thought.' He cleared his throat, trying to disguise it as a cough. "She worth it?" He pointed at the bruise on Sportacus' face.

"Worth dying for, so—yes."

'Be nonchalant, Rotten. _Nonchalant_.' He brushed at nonexistent lint on his bellbottoms. "What's her name?"

"Stephanie."

Robbie froze, his heart thudding out of time, and he forgot himself. "The _cheerleader_? Your girlfriend is the mayor's _niece_?"

Sportacus' face changed. "Robbie Rotten." It was statement of fact—no question, no suspicion.

'Well, _that_ didn't last long.' Robbie scrambled to his feet, rose-colored glasses falling to the ground. He laughed nervously. "Ah—I was just—trying out…erm…I'd better go." He bolted.

Sportacus let him leave, his side aching and beginning to throb uncomfortably. Chasing down the resident non-villain didn't seem terribly important, so there couldn't be any harm in letting him go. No one was in danger, after all.

He went to his ship.

~*~*~*~

"Oh, this is _beyond_ easy! This is…this is _kindergarten_ simple. It's _perfect_. It can't go wrong, no way, no how—impossible!"

Robbie was back in his usual attire, pacing the length of his lab, gesturing wildly.

"I don't even have to _try_!" He dropped into his furry chair, reaching for the paper on the table beside him. Taking up a pen, he laughed once again and bent closely over the sheet, the ink flowing out in great swoops and curls…

_Dear Sir and Madam:_

_I feel it is my responsibility to inform you of your daughter's involvement with an older man. He is a resident of our fair town, and may be known to you—Sportacus. Being that your daughter is the mayor's niece, I determined it to be of the utmost importance to alert you to the matter._

_Thank you,_

_R. Rotten._

_Lazytown_

He smiled, sealing the envelope and affixing the postage. Granted, he _could_ telephone them, but this—a letter—there's anticipation in a letter. Questions needing to be asked, and no one available to answer them. Letters build up emotions, let them fester. Letters make people _do something_.

And he'd barely needed to do a thing. He could hardly take credit.

But he would.


	12. Chapter 12

Stephanie woke to the harsh trill of her mobile. Fumbling in the darkness, her hand finally locating it on the bedside table, she answered.

"Steph? Can we talk?"

"Maddy?"

"I'm sorry I woke you up. I'll talk to you later."

"No, no—wait. What's going on?"

"Chris. It's over."

Stephanie sat up in the bed, reaching for the lamp. "What happened?"

"Can I tell you when I get there?"

"Where are you?"

"Ummm…turning on your road?"

Stephanie sighed. "I'll unlock the door." She snapped the phone shut, not bothering to wait for a response, and looked at herself in the mirror. "I have a feeling I'd better make a pot of coffee."

~*~*~*~

"So he starts yelling at me about Drew—Drew, of all people, and I don't even know why." Maddy sniffed. "And I…I don't know—it just flew all over me, and I was screaming at him about wanting to be loved, you know? Really loved, and not just assuming someone gives a damn about me just because they've been around a while, right? And he lost it. Started in on how things were fine for so long, and I'm suddenly unhappy."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Unhappy. Or suddenly unhappy, I suppose."

Maddy glanced at her over the rim of her coffee mug. "Honestly? I've been unhappy for a while. I think I just didn't notice. Or didn't want to. Or maybe I really was too stupid to tell the difference, before."

"Before what, Maddy?" Stephanie's voice was soft, coaxing.

"Before your blue man showed up and made me see what I really want."

Stephanie's hackles rose. "Excuse me?" She tried to keep the bite out of her words.

"Get off it, Steph. I don't mean _him_—my God, no other woman will ever turn his head, not now. Get a grip, will you? I mean how he treats you, how you feel about him, what you _share_, stupid."

Stephanie was chastened. "Sorry."

"No problem—I'm feeling a little bitchy, myself."

"What is it about us that you want to have?"

Maddy sat back, looking hard at her. "Do you have any idea what the two of you look like?"

Stephanie shook her head.

"Let me tell you, then. When you walk into a room, everyone can see the electricity. Even if your standing with the girls—like at the New Year's Eve party, remember?—and he's off with the guys, there's this…charge…between you. And it's not only sexual…"

Stephanie groaned.

"Hush, will you? I'm serious. Yes, there's the chemistry, of course—but that's normal, especially in a new relationship like you two have…what I'm talking about is different." She paused. "Maybe it's because you were friends for so long…" Maddy shook her head. "Point is—any idiot with eyes can see how he worships you, and how you adore him."

"Maddy, that's—"

"That's what I want, Steph. I want a man to look at me like I'm a queen, like we have a secret together…like _I_ am the best thing in the world. I'm tired of being second-best, or the reliable girlfriend of several years that never hears 'I love you.' Maddy held up her hand, cutting Stephanie off before she could speak. "Honestly, I could count on one hand the number of times Chris said he loved me. Don't I deserve better? I think I do."

Stephanie really didn't know how to respond, so she clung to the one thought lingering in her mind.

"Drew!"

"What?"

"Drew. I know why Chris brought up Drew. Sportacus told me the next morning—after the New Year's party. Remember how the guys were getting loud?" Maddy nodded. "Sportacus told me Drew had called Chris out about how he treats you, that he shouldn't take you for granted."

"Well…that would explain a lot." Maddy grew silent, quietly sipping her coffee and looking out the window.

"Drew's a nice guy, Maddy."

Bright eyes turned on her. "I know that. It's too soon, though."

"Maybe so. But don't wait too long."

"What if he wasn't really…I mean…"

"What if he's not actually interested in you?"

"Yeah."

"Not many men will tell a friend to stop taking a girlfriend for granted—not unless there's some kind of feeling there." She grinned at Maddy. "And, since he's not your father, or a brother…I think it's a safe bet to say those feelings aren't just friendly."

Maddy glared at her, a smile quirking at the corners of her lips. "You're a naughty one, Stephanie. I hope your blue man knows that."

"I think he has a suspicion."

They laughed.

~*~*~*~

Stephanie's last class of the day had finally ended, and she reached into her backpack to turn her mobile off vibrate. Sliding open the cover, the screen indicated four missed calls—her _parents_? She wondered what would make them call so many times during her class, and hurriedly dialed their home number. On the third ring, someone answered.

"Hello?"

"Mom?"

"_Stephanie_." Her mother's voice was cold.

"What—Mom, what's wrong?"

"When were you going to tell us? Easter? Graduation? Your birthday? When the wedding invitations go out? Or when he drops you for someone else? How dare you, Stephanie. You know—"

Stephanie cut off the tirade, "Mom, what are you talking about?"

"Your 'Sportacus'."

_Oh, god_. Stephanie stopped on the sidewalk, a crowd of students surging around her. "Who told you?"

"I told you she wouldn't deny it!" Her mother was shouting to her father. "We received a letter today, from Lazytown—a Mr. R. Rotten sent it."

"Robbie Rotten?" Stephanie was aghast. "_Robbie_ told you? How does he even _know_?"

"I don't know, young lady, and I don't really care. How long have you been seeing this man?"

"Since last fall."

Her mother paused, gathering her thoughts. "I want the truth, Stephanie."

"That _is_ the truth." Stephanie looked around, lowering her voice and going to a bench. "There was never anything before then, I promise."

"But…_why_?"

"I don't understand what you're asking…why him?"

"Yes, _why him_."

Stephanie sighed. "He's…he's been my best friend for years, Mom. I guess it just—turned into something more."

"Have you slept with him?"

Stephanie reeled. "Mom!"

"I'll take that as a 'yes', then." Her mother drew a sharp breath. "Your father and I are _not_ happy about this. I can't believe my brother let you spend time with this—this—_letch_. Now look what's happened." She shouted, again. "Do you _know_ what kind of reputation she'll have? People will think she's naive—stupid." Her mother sighed. "Your father is upset, Stephanie. He thinks you've thrown yourself away. Now, I understand how people are these days, but I still can't believe you'd be so foolish. You were so smart! I _knew_ we never should have sent you to Lazytown."

"Mom—"

"You're not to see him anymore. He's too old for you."

Panic gripped Stephanie. "_What_?"

"You heard me. No more."

Stephanie couldn't speak, her chest hurt.

"Did you hear me? I want you to promise you won't see him."

Possessed by desperation and rage, Stephanie spat out her next words. "No. I won't promise. I _refuse_ to promise."

"Stepha—"

"No! I won't. I love him, and I will _not_ give him up."

"Now, you listen—"

"I love you, Mom, but I'm not listening to this. I'm hanging up. Tell Dad I love him, too."

Stephanie disconnected and powered off her mobile, her hands shaking. She stood, hoisting her pack higher, and made a beeline for home.


	13. Chapter 13

The answering machine was blinking furiously, and Stephanie would've gladly laid down a bet that most, if not all, of the messages were from her parents. She pressed "play" and deleted everything with her mother or father's voice, and barely stopped herself from erasing a message from her uncle:

"Stephanie? Oh, Stephanie, please be there…oh, goodness, you're not. Oh, dear…oh, dear. Stephanie, when you get this, please call. I've just spoken with your parents—they're extremely upset…call me at home—don't dare call Town Hall. Miss Busybody will listen in. Oh, I suppose I should say this is your Uncle Milford…goodbye, Stephanie."

She permitted herself a small smile—as if she wouldn't recognize her uncle's voice—and deleted the next two messages from her parents. Dropping her bag to the floor, she swept up the phone and dialed as she paced. The Mayor picked up almost immediately, and Stephanie hurriedly related the conversation she'd had with her mother.

"What do I do, Uncle Milford?"

"I don't know, Stephanie. Your parents are angry, but…well, I know how important Sportacus is to you." He sighed. "Have you spoken to him?"

"No—I…I didn't know how to reach him."

"I'll send him a letter right away—let him know what's happened." Milford's voice gained an edge. "And I'll be sure to tell him exactly how Robbie Rotten is involved."

"Thanks, Uncle. I don't know what I'd do, if I didn't have you to help."

"Now, now, Stephanie. It'll be okay. Don't worry—as soon as my sister meets Sportacus, everything will be fine. You'll see."

Stephanie frowned. "How can you be sure?"

"I…well…I—I'm not. But I'm hopeful."

She had to smile—"Then I'll be hopeful, too. I love you, Uncle Milford."

"Oh—I love you, too, Stephanie."

She clicked off.

Sportacus received the promised letter not ten minutes after Milford had ended his call with Stephanie.

_Sportacus—_

_I have talked to Stephanie; Robbie Rotten has written her parents and told them about the understanding you now share with her. They are angry, and Stephanie is very upset. I have reassured her as much as I can—perhaps you should speak with her._

_Milford_

Sportacus closed his eyes—frustration and anger washing over him. Frustration at not being able to comfort Stephanie as he wanted, at her parents for passing judgment so quickly…anger at Robbie for—for never _once_ learning how to be better. And for tarnishing something so wonderful.

He left the airship, going to the mayor's house. He could only hope hearing his voice would be enough for Stephanie to be reassured.

Sportacus disliked telephones—by their very nature, a person couldn't be certain of the feelings of whomever they were speaking to; he relied on vocal cues: hesitation, inflection, the very words chosen…but he was most comfortable reading the eyes of a person. Stephanie's eyes were particularly revealing, and he pictured them in his mind as her voice filled his ear.

"They're so angry, Sportacus. I've never seen them this upset over _anything_."

"It will pass. Give them time."

She sighed. "I thought parents were supposed to be understanding."

"They are—but it is easy for them to be distracted by worry."

He could hear the edge in her voice, the tone growing higher, more bowstring-tight. "But I'm _fine_! Why should they worry? It's _you_. I couldn't ask for anyone better, anyone who could be safer, or sweeter, or—"

"Stephanie." He couldn't stop the smile that curled into her name when he spoke. "They're shocked. Those things mean nothing—not now. _Give them time_."

She sighed again, more deeply. "It's not even the middle of February. How are we going to manage until I graduate?"

"Just as we planned—we write. We think of one another. We work and wait."

Her voice fell almost to a whisper. "What then?"

Sportacus hesitated, biting his tongue. "You graduate. Come home."

"To Lazytown? To you?" There was a lightness to the words.

"Yes—to me."

"I love you. I miss you."

"I love you—and we'll be together soon enough." He paused. "Try to not worry, Stephanie. It will work out in the end."

They talked further, briefly, and he disconnected—confident, at least, in her comfort.

Stephanie had been right about her parents—they remained livid for weeks, calling her and leaving angry messages when she didn't answer, almost reducing her to tears (and twice succeeding) when she did.

To say their relationship was strained didn't begin to describe the vast gulf that now existed between them. Years spent in Lazytown _had_ affected her connection to her mother and father—they were her parents, and she loved them, but she'd been and felt so distant for so long, it was easy to turn away and put them out of her mind. Or try, at least. It wasn't as easy as she'd hoped to ignore the conflict occupying her mind daily.

"Give them time," Sportacus had said, "it will work out in the end." She hoped he was right, yet wondered what would happen in two months time, when both her parents and Sportacus would arrive to see her receive her degree.

Some small part of her felt great sympathy for her Uncle Milford, who would be the unfortunate witness to it all.

Robbie was nowhere to be found—much to Sportacus' frustration.

By some miracle, the world's worst villain managed to vanish _again_, and at a much worse time. Granted, the damage was done, and all the answers in the world wouldn't change what was happening, but Sportacus really wanted to ask him exactly what he'd been thinking when he wrote the letter to Stephanie's parents. That he wanted to do other things to the intrusive brat of a man went without saying, but…he would resist _that_ particular impulse.

"Does he honestly think this will force me to leave Lazytown?" Sportacus was disgusted. Years and years of silly tricks and botched ideas hadn't driven him out—how would this be any different? He knew why Robbie assumed it would work: Stephanie. All of Robbie's prior attempts were directed specifically at Sportacus; this time, he was broadening his scope, willing to sacrifice someone else, too. Robbie was counting on backlash from all quarters if the townspeople learned their local hero was involved with the mayor's niece. Robbie expected Milford Meanswell to explode in righteous anger when he discovered his sweet, precious Stephanie was intimate with an older man.

Sportacus permitted himself a smile. Robbie was so very, very wrong about the mayor. Not only that, but with Meanswell's approval, it was unlikely that anyone else in Lazytown would disagree with the relationship. Really, the only thing Robbie _had_ gotten right was how Stephanie's absent parents would react—and though he would never condone Stephanie cutting her parents out of her life over him, he couldn't help the small swell of pride in knowing she loved him enough to consider the option. Of course, he would do everything in his power to stop that from happening.

He stepped back out onto the ship's platform, scanning the landscape below for any sign of Lazytown's wayward resident. Seeing nothing unusual, he sighed and went back inside, returning his attention to a stack of letters. He'd delayed the inevitable long enough.

_Sportacus—_

_It's been a long time since I've written you…I'm sorry. I know I promised to write often, and I haven't kept that promise. In fact, I wonder if I'll even send this one, since I'm not sure how you'll react when I tell you my news._

_I met someone._

_Oh, that's strange to see written—it sounds so...significant. Especially when I'm telling it to __you__. I think you'd like him, though—he's very active. I met him during one of my classes…he's a kayaking instructor…he's funny and sweet and attractive—his name is Tim—I should mention that, right?_

_When we met, he'd just broken up with his girlfriend, so I was a little worried that I was his rebound girl, but…he said he'd been drifting away from her for a while, that they'd not been together much lately, so he wasn't really heartbroken over it._

Sportacus set the letter aside, hating the sinking feeling in his gut—knowing what Stephanie would share, would give up, how she would get hurt, how much Tim would hurt her with his betrayal—and tried to focus on how much better things were for Stephanie now, how much happier she'd become. He bit into an apple and resumed his reading.

_We've been together about five months, and_

_I'm not mailing this. There's no way. I can't tell you these things! Can you imagine looking at me and thinking, "There's Stephanie, all grown up and dating. That's her boyfriend, Tim. They have"_

_No. You'd be horrified if you knew what I've done._

_I did it. With Tim._

_Oh, that looks awful on paper, too. "Did it"? That's so juvenile…but how else do I say it without feeling even weirder? Sometimes I can hardly believe it happened. I just expected it to be more, I suppose. It really doesn't seem like a big deal, now that it's over. Was it supposed to be? Was it really that important? I feel like it should've been, but…no changing it now.._

_I wonder, sometimes…_

Sportacus thought briefly if reading these letters wouldn't cause him more heartache than he could handle. Where Stephanie was concerned, he was more tender, more easily wounded—and old words still carried power. He flipped through a handful of other sheets, most no more than a line or two—letters started and never finished—searching for the last, the most recent. He came to it, a sealed envelope with her looping script forming his name on the front. He tore into it.

_Sportacus—_

_You're in the other room, resting on the couch…your bruises look terrible, but I know they'll be gone soon. Problem is, you'll be gone soon, too, and I'm not ready for that. I don't want you to ever go—I'd be happy if you could stay right here with me in this little house forever, happy in our own little world…but we can't, can we? It always has to end, doesn't it?_

_This isn't ending, though—I know it. I thought I knew what I felt when I was with Tim, but I was wrong…I had no idea what it was to love somebody, what being happy really meant. You—this is going to sound corny, and I'm sorry, but I mean it—you showed me happiness. You're __still__ showing me. As much as I dread coming back to this house alone, I have to remind myself that when I leave it for the last time, I'm coming home to you._

_What's that going to mean for us, Sportacus? Are we going to pick up where we've left off? Will I live with Uncle Milford? With you? Will we…_

_I'm not going to write it down—I don't want to jinx it. Just so you know, though, just in case you're wondering—"Yes." And I'd love at least two, if that matters._

_I love you. When you miss me—because I think you will, if the look in your eyes is anything to go by—read this again. And remember that we'll be together soon. It won't be soon enough, but it'll be soon. Oh, why can't it be May?_

_I love you, Sportacus._

_I think I'll say that again: I love you, Sportacus._

_Stephanie_

She'd drawn a little heart by her name, and he smiled—he couldn't _stop_ smiling, and read the letter twice more before secreting it away in a small pocket in the lining of his vest. He was grateful that she'd included that little note, that she'd known how much he needed the reminder of her happiness after he'd gone through her earlier writings.

He patted his chest, the paper rustling under his hand, and smiled again.


	14. Chapter 14

April passed in a rush, and final examinations were suddenly upon her. Stephanie worked in a flurry of activity, her sleeping patterns utterly destroyed between writing the requisite papers demanded by her professors and the letters so lovingly penned for Sportacus. She made an effort to not endlessly discuss the situation with her parents—and to not fall into a habit of writing nothing but sentimental love-notes. Instead, she wrote about her classes, her excitement at finally graduating, about her friends…anything and everything that she would've shared with him even if they hadn't become more than friends.

Two days before the commencement ceremony, Maddy called, suggesting they go out for pizza and celebrate their mutual achievements. Sitting in the restaurant, drowning in noise, Maddy noticed Stephanie looked flushed—too much so, even in a crowded, warm room.

"You okay?"

Stephanie blinked, yawning. "I'm sorry…it's just—I'm exhausted."

"Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Yes, Mom." Stephanie rolled her eyes.

Maddy gave her a hard look in response. "Let me rephrase that: when was the last time you slept eight hours in one stretch?"

Stephanie looked guilty. "Three or four days ago? Maybe…longer?" She sighed. "It's probably been a week. I don't know."

"If you don't know, it's been too long. Steph, that's your problem—you _are_ exhausted. You've run yourself ragged lately." Maddy reached across the table, wrapping her hand around Stephanie's wrist. "Go home. Sleep. We'll hang out tomorrow, do a little celebratory shopping. How's that sound?"

"It sounds great." Stephanie smiled broadly, though it was a little weak at the corners. "What time do you want to go?—my family's coming in tomorrow afternoon."

Maddy shook her head, releasing Stephanie's arm. "That's what's really wrong, isn't it? Your parents will be here."

Stephanie nodded. "I dread it."

"Isn't your uncle coming, too?"

"Yes."

"And I seem to recall something about another guest…some guy you know—blue suit, runs a lot, does handstands?" Maddy grinned at her over the pizza between them.

"Hmm—yeah, it rings a bell." Stephanie laughed softly, looking more herself. "I'm so glad he's going to be here."

"I'll bet." Maddy cocked her head, eyes narrowing. "Where's he staying?"

Stephanie shrugged. "I have no idea. I know where I _want_ him to stay, but with my parents here? Knowing how much they hate him?"

"Wait—are they staying at your house?"

"No."

"Is your uncle staying?"

"I don't know, really. He never said."

"Then tell him to stay, and keep your Sportacus with you, too."

"Maddy, no!" Stephanie stifled a laugh. "I could never—can you imagine? My uncle, lying on the couch, trying _not_ to think what I might be doing a room away?" Her eyes danced. "Poor Uncle Milford!"

"You need to live a little more wickedly, my friend." Maddy winked.

"Oh, I don't think so. I'm happy with my life, thanks." Stephanie flagged down a waiter, asking for two boxes. "I think I'll take your advice and go home. What are you going to do?"

Maddy swirled her straw around in her glass. "I thought about calling Drew."

"Really?"

"Do you think I should?" Maddy looked uncertain, something Stephanie wasn't used to seeing in her friend.

"Why not?"

"Steph, we're graduating in _two days_. I'll go home, he'll go home—and in case you didn't know it, those two places aren't the same. Or even anywhere near each other. Doesn't it strike you as a little stupid to even talk about it?"

The waiter arrived with their boxes, and the pair hurriedly packed up their leftovers, grabbing their things and stepping out into the warm evening air. As they walked to Maddy's car, Stephanie spoke. "No, I don't think it's stupid."

Maddy shook her head, looking at Stephanie oddly. "Are you talking about Drew?"

"Yes. You should call him."

"And say what?"

"I don't know."

Maddy sighed, opening the car door and looking at Stephanie across the roof. "You're a born optimist, you know? It drives me crazy."

Stephanie smiled, shaking her head, and they both got in. Buckled and on their way, Stephanie looked out at the world blinking past them in the streetlights. "I wasn't always an optimist."

"What changed?"

"My parents sent me to Lazytown."

"Can I ask why?"

"They travel a lot for their jobs."

"I guess that's why you're an only child, then?"

"Exactly."

"So…what about Lazytown turned you into an optimist?"

Stephanie shrugged one shoulder. "I think it was the reality of things just…working out. No matter how bad something might get, it always turned out all right in the end. Living like that—it was pretty much impossible to think life could go wrong."

"What about out here?"

"Outside Lazytown?"

Maddy nodded.

"Oh…let's just say I've learned some hard lessons."

Maddy laughed. "You're a great girl, Steph. Don't let anyone ever try to convince you otherwise." She glanced across the car as they turned onto Stephanie's road. "Especially your mom and dad."

Stephanie smiled, shaking her head. "I know—believe me, I know." When the car stopped, she released a heavy breath. "Besides…I'll be in Lazytown soon. Whatever my parents might think, I'm happy. I'm happy there—I'm happy with _him_. They can't change that." She gave Maddy a pointed look. "I won't _let_ them change that."

"Good." Maddy parked in front of Stephanie's house. "Pick you up in the morning?"

"Sure. What time?"

"Nine okay?"

Stephanie nodded. "See you then."


End file.
